Last Stop
by Spirit0
Summary: AU Left at an orphanage at age eight by his parents and never adopted, Van makes it to be a pessimistic bus driver. On a rainy day, a drenched girl without money boards his bus, wanting to travel to the orphanage Van was raised. Will he allow her to ride?
1. Have a Heart

**A/N: Kill me if you so truly desire, but I do not really care (much ;). I'm writing this fic because the idea haunts my thoughts (that, and the fact that my computer is totally dead). So, all I'm going to say is, this idea came about while I was sitting on a school bus, severely bored. The whole meaning and fat of the story came from listening to WAY too much Yellowcard (then again, you can never have TOO much YC!). I guarantee that at least four of their songs will appear in this (if you only have their 'Ocean Avenue' CD, you'll be lost on three of the songs :P. You non-die hard fans, feh!). **

**Well, I had this chapter written, and took a little break from writing. I read To Kill a Mockingbird (required for school) and was re-reading A Walk to Remember (just a damn good book, though I sicken myself because I never cried), when I realized they were both first person point of view stories. Stupid, you say? Yeah, maybe, but it was significant enough to make me re-think this story. It occurred to me that this was more Van's story, and even though Hitomi has a major role (go figure), this isn't about her. So I asked myself, should I write this story from Van's point of view? I mean, I've never written a story from someone else's aspect before. And then I'd have to _be_ Van. Despite all this, the answer was still . . .**

_**Yes. . . . **_

Last Stop 

_You may wonder why I sit here and write this to all of you, for everyone to _enjoy_. This is the story of my life, or at least the part where it got flipped upside down. Flipped upside down for the better, so it seemed. As for the reason I bother to write it, well, the answer will be revealed, in due time . . . _

Chapter One: Have a Heart

The rain came down with a vengeance out of the dark gray clouds above, making everyone scramble to board the bus. Their clothes dripped onto the dry floor, making it hazardous for those who tread over it. A fortunate few had umbrellas, but that did not stop the water from turning into puddles and seeping into their shoes. Everyone's socks had to be soaked through, unless they had really good water proof foot ware. But was there honestly such a thing?

I had to be about the only one on this bus---_my _bus---who was dry. So what if it was because I'd sat in that drivers' seat for practically six hours straight, it sure as hell beat waiting for some bus driver (particularly me) to come pick you up. Especially in this weather; I've never seen rain come down so hard in my life. That may make driving hazardous for me, but I like the rain. It's dark and dreary, like myself. Why do people hate the rain so much, anyway?

Traffic whizzed by, slower than usual, but not by much. I was trying to merge the bus back with traffic after picking up another load of soaked passengers. If it's hard in a car, it's a million times harder in a bus. And, though I don't know why, people always seemed to put public buses off more than school or long travel ones. Okay, so what if we stop a little frequently and delay you about a minute? Oh wait, there are people out there who actually enjoy life. Sorry, I forgot.

You'd think I would say, 'I was one of them once, so I understand,' considering this was my first day on the job, but I never was. As if it isn't obvious that I'm a very pessimistic person, what with the rain and all. Hey, if you had a past like me and were a bus driver, you would be too.

Back to the traffic situation, it seems there are some kind citizens out there after all. Some lady stopped and waved me to go, I think, it was kind of hard to tell in this monsoon. I gave a two-fingered wave back, highly unenthused. All this time I thought turn signals were to warn people you were turning, but I swear they're just a blinking light that no one gives a damn about.

The windshield wipers zipped back and forth before you could blink, but somehow the rain was faster. As soon as the wiper made a sweep, it was covered with water again. For a millisecond everything was clear, and the next it was an artists pallet, just a mess of runny colors. Colors. Lots of meaningless colors that control our lives and brainwash us. Told you I was pessimistic.

Another stop, oh joy, I get to be trapped at the side of the road again. Let me tell you, being a bus driver is dull and repetitive, and the uniforms are pieces of crap. How dare they make me wear a blue collared shirt, navy blue pants, a black tie, and to top it all off, a golden name tag (as if people cared that my name was 'Van Fanel')? I like to think I'm pretty good looking, but this uniform was doing me no good, and it itched like a dog with fleas. Just one of the many perks of bus driving, right?

More people boarded, soaking wet, while others ran for their lives into the hurricane-like rain. Sorry for the boredom, but that's the gist of it. Bored myself, I look at my watch. According to its calculations, it's 6:45 PM. Thank god! Only five more stops to go!

It was the next stop that got me, though.

To my agitation, there was no room to pull to the side. Oh no, those life-loving, busy drivers were going to get me. Pushing the thought out of my mind, I reached for the lever to open the door. I began to notice that the rain was slowly letting up. In the distance I could actually make out the outline of a building that served as one of the only college's in the area. Makes you wonder why all the people who boarded were no older than twenty-five, my age, huh? If it weren't raining so hard, I swear they would have had a good gloating. Not that I cared one way or another, I glared at them all anyway.

About to close the doors, my hand halfway to the lever, a glimpse of a running figure caught my attention from the corner of my eye. It was running towards the bus, in a bright yellow poncho, bent on making it. Quickly I glanced in the rearview mirror, only to see a line of cars stuck behind the bus. I knew it would be wrong of me to just drive off and leave the person there, so I waited, impatiently.

When this being, a female, finally took her first step onto the bus, I heard a car horn sound. I pretended not to notice, and kept my focus on yellow poncho girl on the step. I could tell it was a girl, despite the fact that she had her hood up, with her head bent down, panting from running so hard. A few strands of shoulder length honey blond hair stuck to the dripping poncho, glistening with water. But what really gave away her femininity was the curves of her body . . .

After another moment or two of panting, she eventually lifted her head. I was instantly hit by swirling emerald eyes, staring intensely back at me. She stood up straight and smiled hesitantly at me (I guess it was the look on my face and the darkness of my auburn eyes that caused the hesitancy). I still watched her as she pulled down her hood, letting loose the rest of her hair, which curled slightly at the shoulders. Some of the dry hair began to stick to the still dripping poncho.

My arms crossed in front of my chest; I was waiting for the money, or token, or whatever she was going to use to board.

The hesitant smile still present, she lifted the right side of her poncho to dig into the pocket of her loose jeans. Her hand came up empty, and the smile was beginning to fade. She did the same with her left, and again came up empty; her smile turned into a worried frown. By now, I knew she had no money, but watched angrily as she kept patting her body, hoping to feel the lump that I assumed would be a wallet. But of course, she didn't find it.

This is what I get for being nice.

Again her emerald eyes locked with mine, but this time I knew my expression was much fiercer than my first. An apologetic smile replaced her worried frown, when I became aware of more car horns beeping.

"Off," I said in an even tone, though it still came out a bit gruff and harsh. I watched as a look of confusion crossed her innocent features, which then turned into a pleading one. In my mind I knew it wouldn't be that easy to get rid of her, as if she'd really just turn around and walk off after trying so hard to get there, but I wished that it would've been. It would've made my horrible life so much easier.

"No, please," she started, her eyes twinkling, "you don't understand . . ."

"Oh, I understand," I growled, fumbling with my seat belt buckle in an attempt to rise. "I understand that you have no money, therefore, you shall not be riding this bus. Now off!" I was now at full height, and though I racked in at six foot one, I was only about three or four inches taller than her.

"Please, listen to me first!" she cried, tilting her head slightly to look into my eyes. Those emerald eyes of hers, there was something about them that touched a sensitive spot inside me. But it only caused my features to harden as I listened to her plea. "I'm a volunteer at the orphanage at the end of your route. It's my first day, and they are expecting my help. I beg you, please let me ride?" She gave me puppy-dog eyes among honking horns now mixed with angry shouts.

_Orphanage_. She'd said that word. _Orphanage._ And not just any orphanage, the one at the end of my route. Oh, how I despised my route. But since it was my first day, what choice did I have but to take it? Yet I know a flash of sadness and anger crossed my features for a brief moment just then.

Still, I did not give in. "You have no money to pay for the ride, now get off."

"I'll pay you back tomorrow!" she cried. Yeah, that was so the oldest trick in the book. As if I'd trust her with that one. By now, though, everyone on the bus was listening to her pleading, and I became conscious of the whispers and constant horns that were spreading. What was I suppose to do now? It was against the rules to use physical force to remove her from the bus, wasn't it? And, she _was_ doing something out of the kindness of her heart . . . Or so I was being led to believe; like I said, could I really trust her? Plus, the cute ones always turn out bad, right?

Closing my eyes and sighing deeply, I could barely recognize my own voice as I said, "Find a seat."

Wistfully she ran down the aisle to find a seat, a jubilant smile on her face as she exclaimed, "Thank you!" over her shoulder. I only snorted, running a hand through my tangled black locks, before sitting back down. Faster than before, since the rain was letting up, I drove away.

oOo

Go figure she'd be the only one going to the orphanage. I should have expected that though; there aren't enough kind people in the world. My only wish was that the orphanage wasn't so far out of my regular route. It was over in the south part of town, where all the gangs, rundown and spray painted houses are. And the orphanage. In this dirty part of town, there was an orphanage. _The_ orphanage. Yeah, _that's _not depressing . . .

She was now sitting in the first seat, opposite of me. Unconsciously, I kept glancing at her. She seemed almost dry now, though I was sure whatever seat she'd sat in before was soaked. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap, her posture practically flawless. Although she wasn't smiling, her face radiated innocence. But the most unnerving thing was that she was staring at me.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fanel," she said quietly, still staring at me. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused earlier." I slowed as a stoplight turned red, and turned to look at her, a look of pure surprise adorning my face. She was actually apologizing for the scene earlier! Saying thank you for allowing her to ride, I can see that, but an apology? Well, she _is _one of those kind people in the world, I thought.

But _Mr. Fanel!_

I only grunted in reply, as if everything were perfectly normal. "Don't call me Mr. Fanel," I growled hotly. I know I was a bus driver and all, but I wasn't _that_ old! "Just call me Van."

"Okay, Van," she said, starting to smile again.

Silence ensued once more as the light changed and I began to drive again. I tried hard to just focus on the road ahead of me, and not on the girl beside me. This turned out to be a more difficult task than I thought, for she started to talk to me again at th next light.

"So Van, how old are you?"she asked.

It was a simple enough question, so I gave her a simple enough answer. "Twenty five." But then something compelled me to ask. "What's your name?" I mean, if she was going to talk to me, I might as well know her name, right?

"Hitomi Kanzaki," she replied, then she kept going, to my disgust. "I'm twenty-three. This is my last year of college. I'm going to be a social worker."

_As if I care_, ran through my mind. "That explains the orphanage thing," I replied through gritted teeth, wanting so badly for her to stop talking. Alas, she didn't have the almighty power to read my thoughts, and still continued to talk good-naturally as if I wanted to hear the story of her life.

"Yes," she said with a sad smile on her, "I feel sorry for those poor kids at the orphanage. My only wish was that there more kind people in the world to love them. . . ." Her voice trailed off, her eyes finally breaking away from me to revert to the ground. We'd finally crossed into the south side of town, when my muscles immediately went taut. Fences were topped with barbed wire, walls were coated with profanity, and on street corners, menacing gangs glared at vehicles as they passed by, despite the rain. I guess they had nothing better to do.

No conversation ensued. In the distance, through the rain and the mist that was developing, the outline of the orphanage came into view. Getting steadily closer, details started to fill in the whole picture. It was a brick building, though the red of the bricks was fading from constant washing, trying to rid it of spray paint. There were only two stories, but it made up for that in length and width. The "backyard" was surrounded by a picket fence, with the typical barbed wire at the top (as if anyone could climb a picket fence). The sign, "Fassa Foundation: Giving Children Lives", was clear, although a few letters were crooked or missing. There were few windows, though the doors were automatic glass ones. Few cars were in the parking lot. Overall, it was a dreary site.

Putting on the brakes, I waited for the bus to come to a complete stop before opening the door. Hitomi got up, putting her hood back up again for it was still raining slightly. At the top of the steps, she turned and gave me a smile, but I didn't really notice, my eyes clouded over as I stared beyond her at the orphanage.

For the second time that day I couldn't believe my own voice. "Hitomi . . ." she'd reached the sidewalk by now, and looked startled when she turned around. A lump formed in my throat. I couldn't speak anymore. I just wanted to leave, right then. Instead of finishing, I closed the doors

swiftly, and drove away, leaving her to stare after in wonder.

To Be Continued . . .

**A/N: Ah, I finally finished it! WOOHOO, GO ME! Uh, yeah, um . . . Well, in case any of you are wondering, this story will be eleven chapters long (it was going to be ten, but I added one). I would like all of you to be considerate to me. This isn't the type of story I would normally write. As a matter of fact, I was going to give it to someone else to write! But I told a friend about the idea, and she told me to write it myself. Though I think it wold have been much better had someone else wrote it, I'm happy with this chapter. (Even if my tenses are out of wack. I'm sorry about that XX)**

**But I would be so much happier if you reviewed !**

**This story will probably be the one that I update the most. And when it's done, I already have another idea in progress! Eh, I'm in way over my head . . .**

**Please review!**

**-Spirit0 **


	2. Friends?

Last Stop

**A/N: Whoa, am I updating again? I mean . . . Wow . . . I'm scaring myself. I don't usually update so fast. Oh well, I guess it's good for all of us then, eh? The only thing I changed in the last chapter . . . was the orphange is now called 'Fassa Foundation'. Oh yes, and I was so happy, I got nine reviews -sobs-. That ties my old record. Whee, I wonder if I can break it? o.O Well, because I like to interact with all you wonderful reviewers, I'm doing review replies. They're at the end of the chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Two: 'Friends?'

The sun came out the next day, but signs of yesterdays inundation remained. There wasn't a street without a puddle; wasn't a patch of grass that wasn't completely saturated; wasn't a dry leaf on any tree. Yet these things only made the sun seem all the more glorious, its rays sparkling off every droplet of water. And, being just a few weeks before summer's official end, its heat was intense. However, it was a warmth that everyone welcomed with a smile after yesterdays rain, enjoying it for all it was worth.

Everyone except me, that is.

There were more people out than yesterday, in vehicles and on foot, causing more delays than rain ever does. If it isn't slippery roads, it's sun glare, rush hour traffic, and pedestrians. Throughout that day, I had to deal with all of those things, including some still slippery patches. Oh joy . . .

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a deep sigh. I began to ponder whether that day had been worse than the first or not. More passengers had boarded than the day before, creating more hustle and bustle and conversation. And they weren't even interesting conversations either; just normal, dull ones. Eventually I tuned everything out to become only buzzing background noise. Even still, it annoyed me.

With the suns blistering heat, there also came the pesky realization that bus air conditioners really, to be blunt, suck! If I didn't have that one little fan that sat up in the corner all to myself, I wouldn't be here right now. So what if my shirt was light, it still had long sleeves! With pants! And that goddamn itchy tie that I just wanted to rip off and put through a shredder . . . Okay, so the tie didn't really contribute to the heat, but it still created displeasure.

So far, I was dreading my day far worse than the day before. But I had no right to determine that yet, seeing as how my route wasn't complete, and the college stop, _her_ stop, was still a few minutes away.

As I closed the doors to the stop just before Hitomi's, I began to reflect upon what happened the day before. It was odd for me, and an interestingly stressing first days work. To think, if I had just pretended like I'd never seen her and driven away, none of the aftermath would have happened. Normally, I don't think I would've done something like that. Yet no matter how impatient I was, something compelled me to remain and wait for her. I couldn't figure out.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. And if I hadn't waited for her, I thought bitterly, I would've escaped without a lost battle, without the stress, and most off all . . .

Without the haunting memories.

I saw the college building clearly now in the distance. Now I began to wonder if she would even be there today. Maybe she only volunteered at the orphanage once a week. On Monday's . . . I began to highly doubt it. She seemed like the type of caring person who would do it more on a basis of Monday through Friday; or better yet, whenever she could.

The brakes made a light, high-pitched squeaking noise as they brought the bus to a stop. Reaching over for the lever to open the doors, I saw a small clump of college students huddling in the shade. None of them appeared to be Hitomi. When the doors opened, all of them hopped on, dropping their tokens into the machine as they passed. This time, I caught their glances. Instant smugness spread across half of their faces. I kept my jaw firm, but couldn't control the slitting of my eyes.

Then suddenly she was there. I guess I was too busy cursing out all of the other college students that I didn't notice her creep on board. My eyes widened as I had a sharp intake of breath. There was no yellow poncho today, no jeans; just a plain white t-shirt and navy blue shorts. Really _short_ shorts, might I add . . . I mentally berated myself. It was very wrong of me to look at her that way. Very, very wrong.

When I looked up at her face I was greeted with a warm smile. It was to be expected. Of course, I still didn't smile back.

"Hello, Van," she greeted me cheerfully.

After a moment's hesitation, I decided to show some decency. "Hi . . ." I muttered. Why couldn't she be like everyone else; just drop her tokens silently and find a seat?

I soon learned the reason why; she wanted me to see her next action. Out of her pocket, I watched as she pulled out her bus token. But it wasn't just one token; there were two in her hand. She placed both of them in the machine, one at a time. After the last beep, she turned back to me. A look of confusion adorned my features.

"For yesterday," she whispered as she began to walk down the aisle to her seat. Saying I was astonished was an understatement. In the rear view mirror, I watched her sit in an empty seat next to an old man. I just couldn't believe it. She said she would pay me back, and she actually had. Aren't these things usually just empty promises? Just amazing . . .

In a daze, I closed the door and drove away.

Like the day before, Hitomi was the only kind person going to the orphanage. Again, I found myself cursing how far out of my route the stop was. Again, she was sitting up front in the seat opposite me. Again, I found myself unconsciously glancing at her. Again, I found that everything about her was flawless. Again, she seemed to radiate pure innocence. Again, I tried to avoid talking to her.

Again, I did not succeed.

"How are you today, Van?" she asked sweetly. Maybe she just didn't like silence . . .

"Fine," I replied dryly.

This wasn't good enough for her, apparently, as she continued to make conversation. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" At a stop light, the bus rolled slowly to a stop. My face darkened. I knew I was supposed to say something along the lines of, 'Yes, it's a wonderful day. I wish I wasn't stuck on a bus.', but that just wasn't how I felt. There was no joke, I really hated every beautiful day.

I turned to look at her face to face for a moment, before simply saying, "No."

For a second her eyes saddened before she quickly diverted her gaze to staring out the window across from her. I turned to face the road again. I could've sworn she'd slouched a little, but she quickly regained her form. She sat quietly now. I began to wonder if I'd finally succeeded in rendering her speechless.

Then again, I should have known it wasn't that easy, for she continued a few moments later. "The sun is all the more beautiful after a rainstorm. It glitters off the damp leaves like sparkles. It casts light over the world. Everyone seems so carefree under the sun . . ." I glanced at her when she trailed off. She was staring at some kids playing basketball. When we passed, she continued. "And the sun is so warm, especially since it's almost summers end. I feel happy when it is sunny. . . ." (Weren't all of those the observations I made earlier?)

I snorted. I could've dropped this conversation, but something kept compelling me to go on. "Humph, I don't feel that way about the sun. I fail to see what's so great about it." It was the first time I used full sentences when speaking to her. (Then again, it was the first time I'd used full sentences for awhile.)

"Then what do you find fascinating about the rain?" she asked quietly. My eyes widened in surprise. I hadn't said anything about liking the rain. Yet, she knew. But how? Was I really that pathetic? Or was she a mind reader?

I decided not to answer her question. I'd dug myself a nice, deep hole, and I was sure I would only make it deeper if I tried to explain. So instead, I decided to sit in my hole pathetically and make no attempt to climb the impossible walls, discarding my shovel in the process.

In the distance, the orphanage was coming into view. In the sun, the building and fence looked even more ominous than when surrounded by mist and clouds. A few dark locks covered my eyes as they hardened. There were reasons for liking the rain instead of the sun beyond that fact that it reminded me of the coldness I felt in my heart.

"The sun may intensify beauty, but it also brings out the defiled," I said quietly. "Just as light can not exist without darkness, beauty can not exist without ugliness."

The bus rolled to a stop at a light just before the orphanage. She said nothing. I turned to stare at her intensely. For once, I wanted her to reply. I wanted to see how witty a comeback she could create. But none came. There was no smile upon her face, no cheerfulness in her eyes. She'd even begun to really slouch a little. With the clothes she was wearing and the look on her face, she looked like an overgrown toddler who'd just been told there was no such thing as Santa Clause. For some reason, this saddened me. I already made my life miserable, why should I make another?

The light changed, and the bus lurched to a slow start. By the time it picked up full speed, I was slowing it down again for the last stop that day. My hand reached out for the lever, when her quiet voice made me flinch.

"You're right . . ."

Somehow, that hurt even more.

With a surge of energy, my hand grabbed the lever tightly before swinging open the door. I watched her stand up slowly, hands down at her sides. I had to say something to make her smile again.

"Hitomi," I said softly. "Thank you for paying your fare from yesterday. I didn't expect you to do that."

As I had hoped, a small smile spread across her face. As she reached the bottom step, she said, "It was the right thing to do. See you tomorrow, Van."

"Yes, see you tomorrow . . ." I said, before closing the door and driving away.

Wednesday and Thursday happened in similar fashion; Hitomi started a conversation, I tried, without succeeding, not to talk with her and in the end was berated and filled with guilt. I was beginning to really loath this job. Then again, I'd _always_ loathed the job, so was there really a difference?

But Friday hit me like a bolt of lightning, altering the beat of my heart.

When she boarded that day, she greeted me cheerfully, just like always. I gave her my standard grunt or a mumbled 'hi' in acknowledgment. Then she would go sit in some random seat, which I noted was usually away from all the other college students. Being me, I didn't say anything about this. It was just a meaningless observation in my mind.

Of course, we were left alone, _again. _I was getting used to it by then. I had to. She rode throughout the week. She talked to me everyday. There was no way to escape, so I just accepted it. (Or, at least, I was dealing with it. 'Accepting' might be the wrong word for it.)

"So, how are you today, Van?" she asked. This question was beginning to sicken me greatly.

"Fine," I replied like every other day.

"Do anything fun yesterday?" This was a new question that surprised me. I glanced at her as we approached a stop light.

"No," I replied flatly. After my little outburst a few days ago, I was back to fragment sentences.

"Didn't you talk to any of your friends or hang out?" she asked. A bead of sweat formed at my brow. These questions, as well as I, were treading across dangerous water. It was just like the beautiful day question; I knew what I was suppose to say, but couldn't say it. The compulsion was driving me again, and in doing so I was sinking into a bottomless lake, starving for air.

"I don't have any friends," The coldness in my voice was from the icy chill of the water that I was drowning in. Why did she keep doing this to me!

She made no reply.

The bead of sweat trickled down my cheek to my chin, where it hung for a few seconds before splattering onto my tie. My hair was a mess; dark strands clouding my eyesight, while other strands sticking to the sides of my sweaty face. I hated it. I hated myself. I hated my life. I hated the world. Hate. An overused word, too strong for most situations it's used in. But this wasn't one of those situations. I hated everything, everybody . . .

"That can't be true . . ." Hitomi's voice broke my 'hateful' train of thought. I was surprised I hadn't crashed into anything from the blindness that rage causes. I slowed down at a stoplight and turned to face her. I hated the sadness on her face. There was that word again; hate. But it wasn't really hate . . . Like I said, hate was too strong a word . . . And not along the lines of what I really felt . . . But I couldn't describe the feeling; it was unfamiliar.

"But it is," I hissed angrily. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, while my foot tapped lightly on the gas pedal, playing with it. But the light stayed red. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to disappear right then. Just disappear. And when the light changed, I was the first one out of the chutes.

"How can you not have any friends?"

"I just don't," I said quietly. It was wrong of me to take my rage out on Hitomi, even if she _was_ the one who triggered it.

"I'm your friend," Hitomi whispered angelically, "so you can't say you have none."

My cheeks were blistering with heat. My heart was beating rapid fire in my chest, and I could feel my hands loosening their taut grip on the steering wheel. A lump formed in my throat. (Luckily, I somehow still managed to drive.) My brain was trying to come up with a response to her words, but all my thoughts were jumbled up into a heaping pile of gibberish. Nothing made sense. What was I suppose to say to that, anyway?

The orphanage was just ahead and yet I still could not think of anything to say. The blood was slowly draining out of my face; my breathing going back to its normal shallowness. My foot pressed down on the brake pedal, bringing the bus to a slothful stop in front of the Fassa Foundations' parking lot entrance. Hitomi was already standing up to be let off. But I, unknowingly, had different plans.

The bus began to turn into the weather-beaten parking lot; in my madness, I even managed to use the turn signal.

I guided the bus to one side of the lot where no cars were parked. Being the big lug that it was, I doubled parked my vehicle (it was more like a triple park, but oh well). There were a scarce few cars throughout the lot, and I knew there would be no more for today.

There never was.

"Van, what're you . . ." Hitomi began to ask as I opened the doors. Our eyes locked for a brief second; hers confused, mine hard.

"Ladies first."

To Be Continued . . .

**A/N:**

**Vi3t BaBiI: Hello there readers of "Last Stop" by Spirit0. I am her very good friend and newly instated editor. beams proudly I took out all the kinks in this story to make you like it better. Spirit probably trying to chase me away from you guys with a broom But she wouldn't let me touch her 'again' paragraph. Oh well. You guys probably like it anyways P SoOoo… Talk to you in the next chapter... unless Spirit fires me )**

**Spirit0: I'm not one for firing people . Besides, you didn't change all that much, tehe (okay, you should've expected that I would suck with 'then' and 'than'). And brooms are tacky! I'd chase you with . . . A hockey stick!**

**Okay, now for the review replies!**

**The lady winged Knight- **Lol, thanks. I'm glad I exceded expectations -. This chapter . . . Hm, I dunno, tell me what you thought! And again, thank you! (Oh no, I think I made it sadder, whoops, haha!)

**Koriina- **Wow, cute? That's not a word I frequently use in my vocabulary. (I'm like cute-hater person, I don't know, I so horrbie, eh? Smacks self Bad me!) Whee, was this chapter cute too? Hehe, thank you!

**daisy31- **You know, after you used the word 'interesting' everyone else got infected with it too. But I like it, 'interesting' is better than 'bad' or 'your story sucks!' Wow, it's amazing, I updated soon! (Might not be soon for you, but . . . I'm really bad with updates! XX) Tehe, I hope this chapter was interesting too! (Or something else that's not negetive!) Thanks!

**Vi3T BaBiI- **. . . Do I even have to do this one? Haha, oh well, I will anyways! You know my picket fence comment was the most awesome thing you ever heard! (Pft, not!) Yeah, I wouldn't consider Van being a bus driver either, but . . . I couldn't resist D! Oh, and now you're my number one fan, eh? Pish, just kidding! Thank you! (Even though I don't think you'll review since you already read the damn chapter! Haha!)

**Inda- **Look, I continued, it's amazing, whee! Tehe, thanks a lot!

**FoxyFire- **The wacky tenses, they are there (I know they are!) I just tried really hard to cover them up, hehe. And yes, I have a big convidence problem. Apparently I just suck and have no common sense what-so-ever. So yeah, I was going to give it to some else . . . But then Vi3T BaBiI was like: 'No, write it yourself!' Haha, she's about the only person who thinks I can do anything -. Whee, top ten, eh? Hm . . . I guess I could be ten (thousandth -). Haha, seriously, thanks, it made my day!

**Carrie21- **Um . . . is this considered soon? Cause it is in my book (I am the worst updated ever!) Yeah, this story shall be updated the most. But on Monday I start school, wah! I'm a Freshman in high school . . . Joy . . . But never fear, for some reason I can't resist writing this story . So I'll update! Thanks!

**f-zelda- **You didn't lose the story line yet, did you! (Please say no, it would make me feel better!) I hope this was soon enough . . . Cause I'm just a really bad updater XX! But thank you!

**dreamingofflyingaway- **Really, it was beautiful? Sobs That makes me feel special, haha. I hope this chapter was just as beatiful; thank you!

**Yay, I'm done! It's so amazing! I'm sorry it's so short . . . But you didn't really want me to drag it out, did you? And I won't be rushing it anymore. Next chapter, you learn some new things about Van -. Ehehehe, it'll actually be semi-interesting!**

**But until then, I would be ever so greatful if you bestowed upon me a review!**

**Ugh, that sounded so proper, haha!**

**-Spirit0**


	3. Haunting Memories

Last Stop

**A/N: Well, hey! Long time no see, eh? Sorry! -Cowers- (This time I actually have people to cower from, haha!) I would've had it out sooner but . . . I _am_ a freshmen, and I kinda got swamped X-X. And then I got myself entangled in three different hockey teams! So yeah . . . (Plus, Vi3TBaBiI took three days to edit it:)**

**-SO HAPPY!- Yay, I got sixteen reviews for the last chapter! One thing to say . . . OH MY GOD! -dies- Hehe, guess you can tell that's my record.**

Chapter Three: Haunting Memories

_"Ladies first."_

The look on Hitomi's face wasn't anything short of confused, and even a little bit of shock, as she stared at me. I felt awkward standing there, by the drivers seat, staring back at her, waiting for her to move, or at least say something (how ironic, all this time, I hadn't wanted to her to talk!). My face was calm and cool, but on the inside, my brain was scrambled; I, myself, was still trying to fully comprehend what I was doing. And more importantly, why. Why was I doing this? It couldn't have been because she said she was my . . . _friend_ . . .

Could it?

"Van, what are you doing?" Hitomi asked again, this time getting the whole question out.

The answer '_I don't know'_ crossed my mind. But I did know, didn't I? The answer was there, and it came tumbling out of my mouth without my control. "I'm . . . coming with you." As I said it, my voice seemed distant, foreign even. I'd finally sorted out the signals my mind was trying so hard to send me. Even if I didn't like the message they bore, I had no choice but to comply with them now.

Emerald orbs gazed at me with an unreadable expression. The look on my face was just as unreadable, though, I was sure. The tension was building, but I couldn't back out. Not since I'd come this far.

Suddenly, a smile broke out across her features, shattering the ever-rising tension into pieces. "Thank you. It is very kind of you to stop by." She beamed even more at me.

_Kind . . . of me . . ._Those weren't usually words people would associate with me. They weren't even close. Yet, the way she said it . . . I knew she wasn't lying. She honestly thought I was kind.

How dense.

"Yes . . ." was all I could reply.

She gave me what almost seemed like a reassuring smile before she walked past me and out the door. Now was the moment of truth as I turned to face the open door. At the bottom of the steps, Hitomi stood, awaiting me. There was still a chance to leave; just close the door and drive away. But that accursed thing called a _conscience_ stopped me. Funny, for all my pessimism and hate over the years, I still had a conscience. Or perhaps my conscience only reinstated its position now.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, my right foot half-stepped, half-slipped down one of the bus stairs. Then my left foot did the same, until I found myself standing on the weatherbeaten parking lot beside Hitomi. Now I didn't even have the option of running. But as my conscience reeled, I knew I couldn't run forever. Then again, if they'd really wanted to find me, they could've, and would've by now. Shows how much _they_ cared . . .

"Van, are you coming?" Hitomi's voice penetrated my mixed up thoughts abruptly. She was already about half way to the front doors of the orphanage. I guess she just assumed I would be following.

With one last forlorn look at the empty bus, I began to walk towards her at a leisurely pace, preparing myself mentally for what awaited me. For once I entered the building, there really was no turning back.

The inside of Fassa Foundation was a complete contrast to the shabby exterior, just as I knew it would be. After all, books are not to be judged by their covers, and neither should anything else. Upon entering through the automatic doors (with convenient security cameras watching our every move, mind you), there was a short hallway. Walking along, I glanced around. The floor had simple, but not cheep, white tiles, while the walls were painted with the never-gets-old white as well. On either side of the hall there were finely stained doors with topnotch nameplates, leading to various peoples offices. At the end of the hall, an attendant sat behind bulletproof glass, sort of as a check in person. Unless this person verified who you were, there was no way of getting past the door at the end of the hall and into the heart of the foundation.

Behind this glass sat a women in her upper thirties. As Hitomi and I approached, she was reading some document, with reading glasses on. Her long, flowing hair was a light blond, and her eyes were a dark blue. When we approached, she looked up from whatever document she'd been reading.

A sinking feeling came over me.

"Hello, Eries," Hitomi said as happily as ever.

"Hello, Hitomi," Eries' majestic voice floated through the speaker in the middle of the glass. "I see you have a--" her voice stopped suddenly as she took a good look at me. All my muscles tightened as a look of surprise adorned her face. It's kind of hard not to recognize a person when they haven't changed much over the past five years. (Or was it my damn _NAMEPLATE_ that gave it away?)

"-- guest," Eries breathed after an awkward moment of silence.

"Oh, yes," Hitomi said slowly, bewildered at Eries' hesitation. My eyes were locked with Eries, as if we were sending each other telepathic messages, as Hitomi continued. "This is Van Fanel. He's the bus driver that gets me here everyday."

"You don't say," Eries said quietly before breaking our eye contact. My heart was set on rapid-fire mode. Already I was going to be ratted out! Gee, I thought I could at least get to Mr. Fassa first . . .

"It's nice to meet you, Van," her voice interrupted my thoughts. "And it is kind of you to stop by." It was the second time that day that I'd been called 'kind'. Though, when Eries said it, it wasn't sincere.

The door leading to the main room opened gradually. The room looked more like a really expensive daycare then a rundown orphanage. The reddish, pinkish carpet was covered with various toys and stuffed animals. To the left was a tiled area, with various tables set up, with small blue chairs were scattered around it. A television was tucked snuggly into a custom made nook in the middle of this table area, some cartoon flashing across the screen. To the right were some couches, with a radio/ compact disk player built into the wall much like the television. Down at the end of this large room, on either side, were doors that led to the sleeping corridors. On the back wall, there was a door that led into the "backyard".

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention all the unhappy children that were sprawled about? Well, maybe not _all_ of them were that unhappy . . . But--

"Why, hello, Hitomi," a familiar, enticing male voice crashed my train of thoughts. A sinking feeling developed in my stomach as I turned around. Standing in the doorway Hitomi and I had just walked through stood a young man, no older than forty. His hair was a dark brown, and although it wasn't really that long, it was tied up in some goofy bow. The spectacles he wore were small, the gaze of his eyes hanging above the rims. Some whiskers adorned his chin, places that he'd obviously missed while shaving. A purplish scarf-like cloth was draped around his neck, going about halfway down his white shirt. His pants were a dark brown.

"Hello, Mr. Fassa," Hitomi replied.

The man smirked. "Please, Hitomi, just call me Dryden."

Dryden turned his gaze to me, that stupid smirk still on his face. It was time for the beans to be spilled. With each piercing moment, I could feel the blood rising to my cheeks. If he was going to blow my cover, he could at least do it with some decency and do it _quickly_!

"Who's your friend?" Dryden asked nonchalantly. Was this some mind game everyone in this damn place was playing with me, or did they really not know who I was? How could they _not_ know who I was? (I _still_ had that damn name tag on!) Did I change that much? No. This had to be a game. A game that was getting old, fast.

"Oh, sorry," Hitomi said sheepishly, almost nervously. "This is Van Fanel."

"I see," Dryden muttered.

"Hitomi!" a young girls voice squealed before Hitomi could say another word. I turned around unconsciously to see a little girl with brown, curly hair staring up at us, a red, plastic ball in her hands. She looked to be no older than six.

Hitomi bent down until she was almost eye level with the little girl. "Hello, Hana," she replied with gentleness.

"Come and play, come and play!" Hana cried, tugging at Hitomi's arm, dropping the ball in the process. Ever wary of Dryden watching my every move, I bent down and picked up the red ball. It was small in the palm of my hand, my fingers practically touching as they curled around the circumference. Taking a quick glance at Dryden, I held out the ball to Hitomi, who smiled and relieved me of it.

"Come on, don't be shy, Van," Hitomi said as she stood up, with Hana still tugging at her arm relentlessly. I scratched the back of my neck, debating whether I should make up some lame excuse and leave now, or go with Hitomi. Still not completely in control, my mind decided that the latter was not so bad.

Just as I took a step forward, Dryden's voice stopped me dead in my tracks. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Van privately for a few minutes."

Glaring daggers all the way, I abruptly rerouted my tracks back to him. Looking over my shoulder, I watched as Hitomi was pulled to the other end of the room by Hana. She gave me an apologetic smile, as if saying _I'm sorry, it'll be okay,_ before turning her attention back to Hana. I just stood, slightly hunched, next to the owner of _Fassa Foundation_.

"A bus driver." It was a statement, not a question. The game was over, as I figured it would be, for Dryden was always a very concise kind of guy. He didn't even bother to take me to his office (so much for 'private'). Finally adverting my attention from Hitomi, I turned once again to glare at the man. Chocolate eyes locked with mine, each unwilling to budge.

"What of it?" I growled under my breath, never taking my eyes off Dryden. A deep frown set on the elder mans face.

"_'What of it?'_ Is that all you have to say to me after five years?" Dryden asked calmly.

"As if you cared what happened to me all this time," I replied coldly, clenching my fists up in rage. _Foolish, foolish, foolish, FOOLISH!_ I screamed at myself. 'The latter was not so bad'? What the hell was I thinking! Then again . . . What had I been expecting?

Dryden gave me one last hard look before staring off to the far side of the room; mainly, I thought, at Hitomi.

"If I hadn't given a damn about what happened to you, I wouldn't have sent you off to college," he said, not even turning again to face me. "There is-- _was_-- only so much I could do for you. I can give you money, support, but I can't decide your future, Van, only you can do that. Your choice was to drop out of college, and work at places like McDonald's, or in this case, become a bus driver." As an afterthought, he added, more to himself, "Though I guess being a bus driver is better than some fast food joint because it at least requires you to pass a special drivers test."

Lamely, I hissed, "Shut up."

"You had potential, Van, why did you throw it away?" Dryden asked, unfazed by my rising temper.

For the first time since I'd arrived, I began to quiver, to melt under the circumstances. My gaze diverted to the floor. "You're the only one who ever thought I had any potential in writing."

"Maybe if you incorporated at least an _ounce_ of happiness into your work, you wouldn't have this problem."

"You can't write about what you don't know," I said flatly.

Dryden said nothing for a long moment, still staring off to the other side of the room. Kids paid no attention to our tirade, going about their daily dread with solemn faces. As I watched them, a pang went through my heart. I could relate to their pain. It had been seven years since I'd left; and five years since I'd been in contact with anyone here. Since I'd been in contact with my 'home'. Just as I'd been a lone, distraught orphan, I grew up to be a lone, distraught adult. No friends. No family. No nothing.

No one to care for me; no one to care about.

"You were happy once," Dryden said softly.

"Yeah . . . once," I said in a far-off voice, turning my face away from Dryden, away from where Hitomi played with Hana, and stared blankly at one of the white walls.

I hated this place.

"I'm guessing you met Hitomi on the-- sorry, _your_ bus?" Dryden said, changing the subject.

Snapping my head back around, I stared wide eyed at the owner of this foundation. Then my attention turned to Hitomi. More children had gathered around her, joining in the little game of catch Hana had started. The kids seemed attracted to her, joining in one by one. Looking at her face, I saw the gentlest, kindest, most caring smile there could ever possibly be on this earth. No words passed my lips.

Apparently, Dryden had never taken his eyes off of me. And apparently, I'd been gapping a little too long. Yet, Dryden only smiled, saying, "She'll be good for you."

I turned to face him, a blank look adorning my features. What the hell was he talking about? Good for me? Nothing was good for me; it was too late. Besides, she was only . . .

. . . my friend.

I curled my lips into a false smile, one that reached my eyes, clouding them with hatred. As I walked away, towards Hitomi, I replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

_Where is your inspiration?_

_You lost it, oh so long ago._

_So much for innovation,_

_I saw this coming long before._

_You have no motivation,_

_Your hopes are high, but trapped below._

_This constant competition,_

_We've won, but you're still keeping score._

It seemed that all the children _were_ attracted to Hitomi. By the time I reached the spot where she sat, there was a group of kids surrounding her. At least fifteen. I stopped walking a little ways from her, just watching her. She sat cross-legged on the floor, two children, one of them Hana, the other a little boy, seated in her lap. Children closest to her sat down, the others stood up. They all seemed to be listening intently to whatever she was saying, probably a story of some sorts. She didn't seem to notice me, as I paused, unsure about what to do; say good bye or just leave. I stole another glance at her and sighed. No, I couldn't just leave without saying good bye.

Hesitantly, I walked until I stood off to the side, but still in her line of vision. She seemed to have stopped talking, smiling at each member of the group individually. Only when her eyes rested on me did she pause, her face feigning surprise. But almost as suddenly as it'd disappeared, her smile came to the surface once more. I rubbed the back of my neck nervously, and from embarrassment.

"Van," her angelic voice spoke softly. "Don't be shy, come over here."

Without a word, I complied, until I stood next to her, all the kids eying me suspiciously. From where I stood, Hitomi looked so small . . . fragile . . . and gentle.

I swallowed hard as she took my hand, her fingertips so soft, and simply commanded me to, "Sit."

This time, I managed a nod as I plopped down on the floor next to her. Every eye was locked on me; Hana visibly shrinking into Hitomi. My eyes roved around nervously, taking in all the sad faces. But that was not what made my heart race. Turning, I looked into Hitomi's stunning green orbs, then unconsciously down at her hand. It was still linked with mine, keeping my palm warm. It was a nice feeling . . .

Hitomi followed my gazed, instantly blushing, and hurriedly detaching her hand from mine. All the warmth began to seep out. "S-Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"I-It's okay," was all I could manage, equally as florid.

Even though her face was mostly buried into Hitomi's chest, I could feel Hana's eyes watching me. I found this odd, since she hadn't acted at all shy earlier. Maybe she just hadn't taken notice of me before.

Hitomi brushed one of Hana's curly locks out of the little girls face, gently lifting her away from the warmth of her own body, while seating the little boy on the floor. Hana gripped her shirt feebly, not wanting Hitomi to let her go. Hitomi only gave her one of her classic smiles.

"Don't be scared of Van!" Hitomi said with a laugh. "He's a friend of mine; he won't hurt you." In a whisper, she added, "And if he does, I'll strangle him personally!"

"As if you could," I mumbled, earning a playful elbow to the ribs. Instead of getting mad, Hitomi only laughed harder.

"Oh, lighten up, it was only a joke," she said between chuckles. Suddenly, I felt her gentle hand wrap around the back of my neck. My eyes widened in surprise, as I gasped, looking at Hitomi, and inhaling sharply. For once, her smile seemed sly. "Or was it?"

"Uh . . ." I was flustered now. What was with this woman? For one reason or another, she always rendered me silent! My cheeks became heated again.

Hitomi began to crack up again, removing her hand from my neck. All the kids seemed to chuckle a little with her when she said, "You really _do_ need to lighten up!"

I didn't crack a smile, only replying with a, "Yeah . . ."

Hitomi turned her attention back to Hana once more. "Hana, say hello to Van."

Hana had finally let go of Hitomi's shirt, yet she still stood in front of the older girl. She looked at Hitomi, still unsure. Hitomi nodded slightly, gently giving her a little push towards me. With one last hesitant look back, Hana walked the little ways to me, and stopped directly in front of me. Even though I was sitting, I was still slightly taller than her, as I stared down into her sad, gray eyes. I began to wonder why she was here.

"Hello," was all she said.

"Hi . . ." I replied.

We had a mini-staring contest before, out of the blue, she asked, "Are you Hitomi's boyfriend?"

I almost fell over in shock. Were little orphaned girls suppose to know about this stuff! And for such a shy little thing, she sure came out of her shell with that one. For the third time that day, I felt my cheeks blaze with utter embarrassment.

"_NO!_" both Hitomi and I exclaimed simultaneously, a little too forcefully. We both stared at each other for a brief moment, long enough for me to note that she was blushing too, before turning away hurriedly. Apparently, this was a riot to all the kids. But even Hitomi didn't laugh at this "joke".

"He's --" Hitomi began to say.

I cut her off, "I'm just the petty bus driver that gets her here everyday, nothing more."

This was apparently enough for me to break through to Hana, as she climbed into my lap and snuggled into my chest. "You're funny," she said, starting to giggle again.

I gave Hitomi a _'What the hell am I suppose to do!' _look. Here, all I'd come over to do was say goodbye. Now, I'd been made a fool of several times and was stuck with a young girl in my lap. All Hitomi did was shake her head and smile. I looked down at Hana again, and sighed, wrapping one arm around her small frame.

"Yeah, I'm a riot," I whispered gently.

"Who wants to hear another story?" Hitomi asked to the group of kids who were incredulously still surrounding us. A storm of 'me's engulfed us as Hitomi began to tell another tale. I listened, holding Hana, as Hitomi's voice intoxicated my senses. When the story was over, I hastily departed; Hitomi thanking me, while Dryden only glared as I left.

When walking into the bus station to report my bus back, there weren't many people around. The sun was beginning to set. I began walking to the front desk to hand in my keys, when I ran into my boss along the way. He stared at me quizzically.

"You're just getting back?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

I gulped. "I . . . stayed at the orphanage for a little while."

To my surprise, he smiled. "That was nice of you. Keep up the good work." He began to walk away.

"Wait!" I exclaimed. He stopped and turned to face me once more. "Why is it that I get that stop, anyway? None of my other stops are even close to it."

He smiled some more. "Just common courtesy to Mr. Fassa's volunteer's, Van. But if you want, I could transfer the stop to another bus."

_"No,"_ I replied hastily and with unexpected vigor.

_But I grew up, (wishing) wishing on a star,_

_You think I won't ever get too far._

**A/N: Well . . . How was that? -cough- bad -cough- You know it! Hm . . . I think you guys will like the next chapter! (Just . . . it's probably not for the reason you're thinking.) I probably going to drop one of my hockey teams, but even still, my schedules crammed with it. (Don't expect ANYTHING on Monday's; I have double hockey practice.) Ack, school was going so great for me too until I got a 72/90 on my math test. -sadness- Now I have an 89! DAMMIT! -sobs- Oh well, I'll get an A no matter what the cost! (Bribing, cheating, etc . . . JUST KIDDING!)**

**Oh yes, the song is "Star Struck" by Yellowcard. Expect to see more of the lyrics (even if it is a really short song!)**

**Obviously, I don't own Yellowcard or anything (all YC lyrics are written by the lead singer, Ryan Key.)**

**Review Replies! (YAY!)**

**Vi3TBaBiI: **. . . Forget you:P

**The lady winged Knight: **Better then the first chapter, eh? Well, something interesting actually happened there, you know? See, see, Van can be nice! And look, he did go in the orphanage. My original plans for this chapter were for me to tell you more about Van's past in the conversation with Dryden. But I decided to be mean and make you wait until . . . chapter six or so, hehe. (Don't hurt me!) Yeah, like I said, I think everyone will like the next chapter the best. I wasn't so thrilled with this chapter, but eh . . . Hope you enjoyed it anyway, and thanks!

**Inda: **Open up as in . . . more like this? Well, I guess Van's not quite there yet. But dun worry, he'll come around! Thank you!

**Koriina:** Hm . . . Here's chapter three! (Sorry, chapter four sold seperately :P! . . . And is on presale, since it currently does not exist.) Anyway . . . I dunno why, but I looked up the word 'cute' out of boredom. I actually learned something! (Wow) The second definition of cute is 'clever and shrewd'. Yeah, isn't my story just so clever? Haha, just playing with you . . . (even if that really is the second definition!) Yes, I need to get my act together, ha. -grins- But I dub that impossible! Thank you!

**f-zelda: **Gawd, I'm getting slower, wah! But . . . It's only been a month, right? (give or take a few days) Hehe, I'm glad I updated too. But I'm even happier that you reviewed . Thanks a bunch!

**Grrl N: **Uh, yeah. Van driving a bus is out there. Normally I wouldn't think of making him a bus driver either. He's too good for the position, you know? But eh, I was bored, and it made a good story, so I thought, what the hell, I'll write it! And look what it's turned into, eh? I cleared everything up with him not stopping, see? I even gave you an insight to the future. I was going to give more, but . . . it just didn't seem right! Thanks!

**fireangel621:** Yes, Van is just so cool when he's grouchy! And yes, Hitomi's his little ray of sunshine, blah blah. Too typical, but what was I suppose to do -shrugs-. The bus driving was different, and I'm sure the ending of this fic will be different . . . Or will it o.O. Haha, I should stop egging you on . And hey, blabbering is cool! I do it all the time. Like right now . Heh, thanks a dozen times -blushes at the 'love your fic' comments-.

**akai chou: **I like to try and be original, and usually nobody reads my stories when I do. But this one makes me happy! (Guess I broke the streak.) Hm . . . You know, I use to really hate first person stories for some reason. They just sorta ticked me off. But now that I'm writing one, I see that they are really cool. (Not to mention fun to write!) Whenever I can, I find myself writing in first person . Even for school things, hehe. Thankies!

**Avelyn Lauren: **Hehe, this is what happened next . I say, he's going to fall in love with someone. -wink- Heh, the next chapter will prove it. Sort of. o.O -giving too many hints- I'll shut up now! Thank you!

**kk: **Dude, bus drivers are mad chumpy cool! They deserve respect around the world! Heh, I dunno, as cool as Van is, I think he's better as a regular citizen than as a king sometimes. Half the time I make him even lower than a regular citizen '. Hm, that's freaky when I think about it. I shouldn't be thinking to hard, though. Heh, hope you liked this chapter; thanks!

**FoxyFire: **Eh, sorry, it took longer than expected to get this chapter out! Hm, everyone seemed to like the second chapter better. I guess that's a good thing . Except, this chapter doesn't meet it's standards o.O Oh well. Lol, Dariel is my god! (Well, not really, but you know what I mean!) Dun be alarmed by the not-so-greatness of this chapter, the next one will be better. I promise, mwhaha! Fine, fine, fine, I won't diss myself anymore . . . Cause I'm too lazy to keep denying it ;). Hehe, thaaaank you!

**Carla: **Oh wow, I'm being envied. That's new, lol. -hides muse- Muse, what muse? -ponders- Do I even have a muse? o.O -isn't sure-. Staring at walls for unhumanly amounts of time is helpful . And that's okay, one review is enough to brighten my day (until it gets smashed into little tiny pieces again). Sorry, I didn't really update too soon, did I? Oh well, I'll try harder this time. -Is still really pissed off about today's day at school . . . failed everything- Thank you!

**Tramie: **Cute equals clever and shrewd to me now! (It's the second definition for cute.) See, I can tolerate that word now (even if I know that's not how you were using it!) Thanks for putting me on your favorites!

**Sakura onto Hitomi: **Cookie! Whee! (I'm so retarded . . . ) Did you like this chapter? Thankies!

**sesshy: **Considering you reviewed this only five days ago, I'd say that was pretty fast, eh? Just playing with you. It gave me new vigor! Thanks!

**Lady Luna: **I would never forget this fic:P I'm a slow, I know! (I'm slow at lots of things) See, it's only been three days since you wrote that. I'll get better! Thank you.

**I just realized I failed like everything at school today . . Aw well . . .**

**Please review! It makes me the happiest person alive!**

**-Spirit0**


	4. Jealousy?

Last Stop

**A/N: Woot woot, I actually made it to update before holiday break. (Okay, so what if I had no goal of doing that, it just sort of happened?) Meh, I didn't plan on writing this chapter for a while longer, but since I'd already started it, I decided, what the heck. So, here it is . I'm sure all of you are so happy -crickets-. Okay, well uh . . . Maybe the crickets will be happy?**

Chapter Four: Jealousy . . . ?

_Over the next few weeks, the friendship between Hitomi and I continued to grow. Almost every afternoon I stopped by the orphanage and every visit lengthened. The children at the orphanage, if they hadn't already, began to like me. I even started to play games with them. Surprisingly, Dryden kept off my case. Everything was going so perfectly, until one day . . ._

o_O_o

When, I wondered, had I begun to look _forward_ to visiting the orphanage? That was a new one; then again, lots of new things were happening this past month. Today was overcast, while I'd normally be thinking something along the lines of _Rain, damn you, rain!_ I just didn't feel like that. I almost wished the sun would come out. 'Almost.' But, I guess I hadn't made that much progress. No, for I still had not made the leap of cracking a smile. Yet, something had been lifted from my shoulders, of that I was sure.

The next stop was Hitomi's. Yesterday, she'd told me, only after I inquired, how Hana had ended up at the orphanage. Turns out that Hana's parents were abusive; beating and starving her. Then, one day, both her parents were killed in a car accident due to drinking. Hana had been in the car, but escaped with only minor injuries. Since no contact to any relatives could be found, and upon hearing how the little girl was treated, the police placed her at _Fassa Foundation._

That was a little over four months ago.

While Hitomi was telling me all of this, she seemed very distant, almost cold. I didn't know why I'd asked her such a question in the first place, for I knew it would upset her. But yesterday, after what Hitomi'd said to me, when I walked into that dreaded place, I examined Hana closely. And that was when I noticed the faint scars on her arms, legs, and one just under her chin. Whether the injuries were from the car accident, or from her parent's hands, I didn't, and probably never will, know. When Hana caught me eying her, she came over with a smile and sat in my lap just like the very first day.

_How could she be so damn happy?_

The college came into view. What I once dreaded was now the highlight of my day. I snorted; tons of irony these days. Approaching the stop, I saw the usual crowd of young adults awaiting my bus. But something caught my eye that was completely out of the ordinary . . . Hitomi wasn't standing in her usual place; away from all the others. She was standing with them . . . Next to someone that I hadn't seen before.

A little hesitantly, I opened the door, never taking my eyes off the man standing with Hitomi. He was girlish looking, with long blond hair, deep blue eyes, and, to my contempt, was what women would label as 'handsome'. The worst thing, however, was the air of confidence surrounding him; if there was a girl he wanted, he'd have her. And from the way he was holding Hitomi's hand, it was obvious he wanted _her. _

Now my heart was racing. I didn't know Hitomi was interested in guys like him, that she even had a boyfriend at all, or for that matter, that she was interested in guys, period. And the fact that she _was_ interested, at least in guys like _him,_ sent a pang through my heart. Then I thought about it; was I any better?

It'd been a week or two since I stopped getting the nasty looks from the students. But as soon as this guy walked on, butting in front of Hitomi, I took note of his sly smile. I didn't notice Hitomi's electric smile, or of the fact that she finally remembered to get a daily pass, I only saw him, and glared.

"Hi Van," Hitomi said as the man took her hand in his again. I looked away, not even giving Hitomi a once over like usual, and closed the door.

"Hi . . ." I said meekly, starting to drive away slowly.

No reply came for the young man was already tugging Hitomi along to the back of the bus.

For some reason, I wished it would rain.

o_O_o

When everyone left, to my relief, Hitomi came to sit up front, as usual. She smiled at me, seemingly unaware that her little friend and I hadn't met before. Or maybe this was just one of her ways of getting me to talk first. Perhaps if we sat in silence long enough she'd crack. But I couldn't take it. I needed to hear her angelic voice. I needed to know who he was. I needed to know what he was like.

Though, judging by the way his arm was around her waist, I wasn't going to like the answers.

"Who is he?" I asked bluntly. Screw courtesy; it was _my bus_.

"Oh, sorry Van, I forgot," Hitomi said sheepishly. I wanted to snap '_On purpose!'_ but the way she said it, and the look in her emerald orbs stopped me. I refrained myself, shoulders sagging. I wasn't angry with Hitomi. Was I even angry with this guy-who's-holding-Hitomi-which-makes-him-a-sinner? No, I was only angry at myself.

_But why?_

After a long moment of silence, Hitomi finally took the hint that I wasn't going to say anything more until I knew who the bimbo was. "Van, this is Allen Schezar." She seemed almost hesitant now. "Allen, this is Van Fanel."

I decided that being polite would rule in my favor, even if I didn't know what my goal was. "Hello, Allen."

"Hey, Mr. Bus Driver," he said casually, covering his mocking tone. Sending him a ticked glance, I ground my teeth together. I was going to be the bigger man here. No matter how much it pained me.

Hitomi laughed. "Van doesn't like being called that. Trust me; I learned that the hard way."

Allen stared at her with a look that screamed _'Are you a moron!'_, but quickly hid it with that sly, and I'm sure, CAPTIVATING smile. I, on the other hand, gave Hitomi one small, polite glare that simply said '_STOP'_! Realizing that she was the only one laughing, she gave out a few more broken laughs, and stopped. The look on her face almost made me wish she'd kept on laughing.

Silence ensued for a little while as my brain racked for a topic to talk about. But I couldn't think of one as I kept glancing at Hitomi and Allen, every time sending a new wave of disgust coursing through my veins. The only consolation I had was that they weren't talking either. And, as far as I could tell, Hitomi was not enjoying the intimacy that Allen was trying to push on her. She looked so uncomfortable, I felt uncomfortable, and who gives a damn about how Allen felt?

Yet still I said nothing. There was nothing to say. So I kept my eyes on the road, slightly hunched over the wheel. I was not going to stay today. I couldn't stay today. Not with _him_ there. I snuck a glance at Hitomi. Her emerald eyes collided with mine. Neither of us said anything, as I turned away quickly.

Then a topic came to me, and I didn't care if Allen could follow or not. "Hitomi, I have a question . . ."

"What is it?" she asked vigorously, glad that someone was finally speaking, especially me. Allen, on the other hand, scowled and pretended not to care as his gaze searched every nook and cranny of my bus.

"Why hasn't Hana been adopted yet?" I asked quietly.

For a brief second she looked so pained that I instantly wished I hadn't asked the question. But even if she did lean into Allen, who shot me a piercing stare, she answered.

"It's weird, Van. Hana is so nice, caring, and gentle. Yet, when people come to observe the children, she throws massive tantrums, and even bullies others. It's as if she doesn't _want _to live with a caring family. Even with Dryden she's wary. The only person she's ever warmed up to was me. And you." She laughed. "It was so odd, the questions she asked that day, the way she snuggled against you. I expected her to say hi and then hide behind me, but she _snuggled_ with you!"

More glares from pretty boy.

Now I was just as baffled as she was, and even a little embarrassed. "I can understand why she'd warm up to you. You're one of the kindest, most innocent people I've ever met . . ."

"Van!" Hitomi cried with a blush, as Allen pulled her closer to him possessively. I pictured him as a rabid dog barring his teeth at me. How amusing.

"But why me?" I finished after this minor interruption.

"Why _not_ you?" Hitomi asked.

I wasn't prepared for that.

"Exactly," Hitomi smiled triumphantly.

"Who's this Hana, anyway?" Allen asked after the conversation was clearly over, looking down at Hitomi with soft eyes, while brushing stray pieces of hair out of her face.

"None of your business," I said before I could control it.

_"Van!"_ Hitomi cried exasperatedly. I shut up immediately.

_oOo_

"What are you doing?" Hitomi asked as I opened the door. I was not in the parking lot. I was not going in. And she couldn't make me.

"I'm not going today," I replied flatly.

I wanted to punch that damn smirk right off of Allen's face.

Hitomi pouted. "Why not?"

"Because . . ." I didn't know what to say. It didn't feel right to lie to Hitomi. So instead, I slammed the door shut, turned into the orphanage parking lot, parked, and was off the bus first.

"Happy?"

"Very," Hitomi said with a smile. And I knew she meant it. For it was then that I realized she meant everything she said.

_oO_o

What was keeping me from ripping Allen's head off, I didn't know. Perhaps it was the comfort of having Hana in my lap, her head buried in my chest. Yes, I almost wanted to laugh, high five her, anything, for the way she had snubbed Allen. It was like Hitomi had said, Hana didn't warm up to others much. And Allen was an instant dislike.

But that was little consolation, as I held the little girl, listened to Hitomi tell a story, and stared at that damned Allen. _DAMN HIM!_ As a result of his possessive attitude toward Hitomi, with his intimate gestures and what not, and Hana's discomfort, I was sitting far away from them. I was leaving at the end of this story, and this time, I wouldn't let her stop me!

Hana tugged at my shirt. I looked down at her quizzically. "Van, you have to do something."

"About?" I asked flatly, acting like I didn't already know what the little girl was talking about.

"Him!" she cried, pointing in Allen's direction. I took a swift glance at pretty boy. His head rested on Hitomi's, while he stroked her hand lightly. My teeth ground together as I turned back to the little girl.

"What do you want me to do about him?"

"Get rid of him! He's evil! He's not good for Hitomi!" she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. I continued to stare at her as mixed emotions ran through me. I couldn't even place half of them. Then she added, "You don't like him either."

"How do you know?" I asked curtly.

"You're jealous that he's with Hitomi," she said.

My eyes widened as I stared at Allen and Hitomi again. A sickening feeling welled up in my stomach. No way. There was just no way. I couldn't be _jealous!_ Who would be jealous? I wasn't jealous. Hitomi was just a friend. Nothing more. I was just . . . looking out for her. Not jealousy. I mean, what's there to be jealous about?

Who am I kidding?

"I . . . I . . ." The words, they weren't coming out. What was I suppose to say? There was nothing I could say. "I am _NOT_ jealous!" I hissed, but I knew the blush adorning my cheeks gave it all away.

The children around us cheered as Hitomi finished with her story. With that, I placed Hana on the floor gently, a hurt look on her face. I looked at Hitomi as I stood up, and saw no smile. And then I looked at Allen, and only saw the biggest grin. My fingers curled up into a fist.

"Fine," I whispered down to Hana.

Slowly, I made my way towards Hitomi and her little "friend". Only upon reaching them did Allen look up in disgust. Hitomi gave me a weak smile. She knew I was going to leave. But I wasn't going to leave. Not yet. No, I couldn't leave Allen alone with her. I had business to take care of.

"Well, I've got to go," I said, trying to sound like everything was perfectly normal. "But before I do," I added slyly, "could I talk to you, Allen?"

Allen gave me a skeptical look. Of course he would be suspicious. But would he be a chicken, and turn me down? "Fine."

"Outside."

Allen glared, while Hitomi had a completely blank look on her face. "Fine."

So Allen rose, letting go of Hitomi since, what, we got there? Things still hadn't registered with Hitomi. And as we walked past Hana, she gave me a broad smile. Great.

The last thing I heard was Dryden's voice saying, "You're just going to let them do this?"

o_O_o

Much to my relief, no one followed us out. Of course, knowing Hitomi, she probably still hadn't quite caught on. No matter. That made it better. There would be no interference. Just pretty boy and me, head to head, outside an orphanage, on the broken up asphalt.

I felt like a monster.

"Well, Mr. Bus Driver? Got a problem?" Allen asked with that damn smirk of his.

"A little one."

"Little, eh?"

"Back off," I growled, muscles going taut. But Allen didn't move, just kept right on smiling at me. The bastard!

"A little jealousy problem is what you've got," Allen said with a laugh.

That's when my fist connected with his jaw.

"Bastard," I spat.

I felt Allen's fist smash into my right cheek, while my foot connected with his gut. No more words were spoken. No words _could_ be spoken as my cheek throbbed red, and blood splattered from Allen's mouth. He made another lunge, practically a tackle. It was so easy to side step, leaving his back completely open. I jammed my elbow into the small of his back, slamming him to the ground.

His hands rapped around my ankle, yanking my right foot hard. A sharp pain shot up my leg. Then he twisted it, making me grunt in pain. Kneeling down, I punched him in the nose with all my might. Blood streamed out of his nostrils, forcing him to release his vice grip on my ankle. I limped some ways away before I looked up.

Hitomi stood in the doorway of orphanage, transfixed by the scene before her. The word 'surprise' didn't even come close to describing her look. That's when I froze. That look. It hurt because I put it there. No! That look, it didn't suit her. And I put it there. And it hurt. I'd never felt like this before.

Hurt.

I _was_ a monster.

I could feel Allen hovering behind me, panting, his blood splattering to the asphalt with a faint dripping. Even still, Hitomi and I were locked in a staring contest. Her eyes pleaded for an explanation, as mine pleaded for forgiveness. Then, as the whole situation took its toll on the innocent girl, her eyes welled up with tears, tears that did not shed, but hung at the edge of her eyes, waiting for her to blink and give them the final force to fall.

_I made her cry . . ._

From behind, I felt the wind shift. Out of reflex, I stuck out my elbow. It hit Allen straight in the gut, making him gag as he sunk to the ground, gasping for breath. I looked back at Hitomi one last time. She closed her eyes.

But the tears didn't fall.

That's when I ran. Just like always. I ran. I ran straight to my bus and drove away.

Why did my eyes sting?

_But I grew up, (wishing) wishing on a star,_

_You think I won't ever get too far_

_oO_o

When I reached the bus station, I regained some bodily control. My eyes didn't sting anymore. It was hard, however, to conceal my swollen cheek and limp. So, I tried to go as fast as possible. But that didn't stop me from running into my boss.

"Hey, Van, are you---" he began.

"Leave me the hell alone," I snapped, limping quickly past him. Not the smartest thing to say to the man, but I couldn't talk, I couldn't _think_ straight.

Retrieving my things from my locker, I stormed out of the building to my car. It was an older car, at least ten years old, obviously used, bright red in color; but it was the best I could afford. The car didn't bother me. Where did I have to go? Nowhere. Where I was I going? Nowhere.

Upon reaching my apartment complex, I replayed the fight with Allen in my head, over and over again. And each time, the memory paused on Hitomi's face, Hitomi's sullen face, with tears welled up in her eyes. Tears . . . Tears of what? Sorrow for Allen? Fear? Or . . . hate. Did she hate me now?

_The world hates me . . ._

I slammed the car door shut, shoving my hands in my pockets. My jaw clenched. I needed sleep. Sleep would make it all go away. The world would disappear. I would disappear. Everything would disappear.

But I couldn't sleep. No matter how hard I tried, I kept seeing her face. I tossed, I turned. I threw a pillow over my head, banged my head against a wall, but still, nothing worked. Eventually, I got out of bed and watched TV. There was nothing good on. I turned off the TV and threw the remote at it in disgust. Then I went to the bathroom, and just leaned on the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Only, I didn't see me, not exactly. It was a younger me. A younger, sad and scared looking me. And then I fell, crying and trembling to the ground with a shadow standing behind me. That's when me, the real me, returned; sweating and with a slightly swollen cheek.

The reflection shattered into a million images, as the shards of broken mirror fell to the floor with a crash. My breathing was shallow as blood trickled from my knuckles. Reality seeped back in at once.

I turned the sink on, placing my hand under the stream of water. It stung. There were probably some mirror fragments in there, but I didn't care. I just stared at the red liquid swirling down the drain. I stood there for a good ten minutes at least, until at last I turned off the water and tightly rapped my hand. I walked out of the room without cleaning it up.

And I finally went to sleep, on the floor, in a cold sweat.

o_O_o

Needless to say, the next day I was a wreck. The bandage which I used on my hand was soaked with blood, and I had to put on a new one. While the swelling in my cheek was almost, if not all, gone, the limp certainly wasn't. I was late for work. There were bags under my eyes. I wasn't concerned, however, about any of this.

I was only concerned with what would happen when _she_ boarded.

That day dragged by slowly, tauntingly, dreadingly, agonizingly. And then her stop came, and it seemed too soon. My brain racked until it turned into mush and fizzled in the hot sun. I took a deep breath, ready to open the doors.

_Please don't hate me, Hitomi._

The normal stream of college students flooded in; talking about nothing and me listening to none of it. Didn't matter. Only Hitomi mattered. Innocent Hitomi, who always came at the end of the line, with a bright and cheerful smile on her face, warming even _my_ heart.

And sure enough, there stood innocent Hitomi, at the end of the line. But there was something terribly wrong. There was no bright and cheerful smile. No radiating glow. There was only a confused and hurt girl, all by her lonesome. I wanted to reach out and mollify her. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, sending an ooze of blood out of my knuckle. Why couldn't I just say how sorry I was!

She walked past me without so much as a glance. It was the worse pain I ever felt.

Everyone got off slowly, it seemed. The world was in slow motion, pushing the dagger further into my heart. I kept looking in the mirror at her unmoving form. She didn't speak to anyone. She didn't listen to anything. She barely blinked.

And it was all my fault . . .

The last person left, and to my relief, just like always, Hitomi came to sit up front with me. Now my breath was caught in my throat. What was I suppose to say to break the ice?

'Lucky' me, I didn't have to.

"Why did you do it, Van?" Hitomi asked quietly.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted out automatically.

Hitomi gave me a blank look. "That doesn't answer my question. I want to know why you did it."

"Why?" I repeated, the rage that I'd felt for Allen yesterday rising within me again. "Why! I'll tell you why! Because . . ."

I faltered.

"Because?"

"Because . . ." I replied quietly. "He . . . he was . . . he was mistreating you."

Her form slumped slightly as she turned away. She didn't say anything. My heart sank. She wasn't going to forgive me? No! I'd do anything for her forgiveness! Anything . . .

"How was he mistreating me?" she whispered.

"_How!_" I hissed. "He was . . . he was molesting you, in a way! He was touching you . . . and it was one sided. And . . . I didn't want you to be hurt. But I guess I messed that up royally."

Hitomi turned to face me. The breath caught in my throat. There was that radiating smile! But . . . why? What had I said to earn that smile?

"You're right," she said simply.

It took a few seconds for me to comprehend. "_What!"_

"I said you're right. What Allen was doing was wrong. I should've stopped him. I guess I was just too scared to say anything. I don't even know why I brought him along. While I may not approve of the method with which you dealt with the situation, you were right," she said. "And I'm sorry, too."

"You don't have to be sorry," I replied quietly, turning into the parking lot. "Do you forgive me?" I asked as I parked, unbuckling my seat belt. We stood up simultaneously.

I flinched in shock as she embraced me, her delicate hands locking around my waist. This was something totally unexpected. I blushed as I awkwardly hugged her back. "I forgive you," she whispered into my chest, "on one condition."

Condition? What kind of condition? "Anything," I whispered.

"You must go out with me on Saturday night."

I inhaled sharply, swearing to God that my face was pure red. "But--"

"You said anything," she whimpered.

"That's not-- No! I mean . . . uh." The word wouldn't come out. "Yes!"

Her eyebrow shot up in amusement at my bungled speech. "It's settled then! Pick me up at eight?"

"Sure," it all happened too fast for my mind to comprehend. I was going out with Hitomi on Saturday night. Not pretty boy Allen, but me. Me, poor little bus driver Van, the crankiest bastard around.

So I still thought.

Hitomi broke the embrace, hopping off the bus with a spring in her step. I sat back down in the drivers' seat and buckled my seatbelt. "Van, where are you going?" Hitomi asked, concerned.

"To drop this thing off. I'm driving you home tonight." With that, I shut the doors.

o_O_o

Our drive home was pleasant. We just talked about everyday things for once. Well, it was more Hitomi talked, and I listened. But it was still fun, nonetheless. As we reached the school, I felt saddened that I had to leave her.

"Van, there's one more thing I need to know . . ."

"What's that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

I stared down at the bloody bandage. Suddenly, I hid back in my shell. "Oh, this? I-it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

It was blunt that she didn't believe me. Slowly, she reached over and touched the wound. I retracted in pain, gritting my teeth.

"You didn't clean it very well."

I didn't say anything.

"Please tell me what happened, Van…"

"I . . . I just accidentally broke my mirror, okay?"

"Don't lie to me, Van," Hitomi whispered into my ear, leaning across to the drivers' side. "There was no way _that_ was an accident." She pointed to my hand.

Turning to face her, our faces were mere centimeters away. "Okay, fine," I said softly. "I couldn't sleep. I felt bad about what I'd done. So I let my rage out on my mirror, alright?"

She kissed my cheek softly. I leaned into it. Her lips were soft against my skin. I hugged her closer to me. I needed her. I needed her more than anything. That's why I had been so upset. I needed her.

"Silly Van," she chided. "I would have forgiven you no matter what you did."

"Thank you . . ."

Giving me one last peck, she opened the door. "I'll see you later, Van."

"Bye . . ."

I swore to God that I'd never wash my cheek again.

**A/N: I doubt that any of you could stare me in the eye and say that's exactly what you thought would happen :P. I don't even think Vi3tBaBiI expected that one, hehe. Aw well, guess now you guys can all guess what will happen in the next chapter! It's Van and Hitomi date time, mwhah! Well, originally it wasn't supposed to be a date, they were just suppose to 'hang out'. But . . . I dunno, I guess it worked out better this way ? -Reads over notes- Yeah, next chapter is so cool, hahaha . . .**

**Too bad I'll probably update 'When Doves Cry' first :P.**

**Unless I get enough reviews to persuade me otherwise -wink-.**

**Happy holidays, everyone!**

**Review Replies-**

**Carrie21- **Who doesn't love Van? -huggles Van- Isn't he so nice in this chapter? (Nice . . . Right, not the greatest adjective to use, but eh . . .) Well, okay, by the end he's nice, anyway (sorta?). So, what did you think of that? I don't think this was the greatest chapter . . . but it had the most action . Thanks!

**Inda- **Does this count as opening up? o.O I think Van still hides in his shell. Well, I mean, he hasn't discussed his past yet, right? Oops, this update kinda took awhile. But, it's long! And . . . I uploaded another story in the meantime! So, I can't really be blamed, ne? Thank you!

**Grrl N-** Eh, not much time is my busy schdule ;. My bad! But here it is, with all the interesting things! Sorry, but it doesn't include Van's past or time at college. That comes in . . . -glances at notes- I think some of it comes in next chapter, actually, hehe. Thanks!

**Sakura onto Hitomi- **Lots of cookies ;. All I ever eat is junk food o.O. I should stop that sometime . . . But chocolate is so good, you know? Hehe, does Van have even more depth and personality now? (Or did I just change it?) Hope you liked this chapter too!

**Avelyn Lauren- **Well, Hana certainly likes him anyway. The Hana thing, that was sorta spur of the moment. But I really like it now . Hm . . . Van should tell them a story. Gotta think of incorperating that. And the cat will come out of the bag eventually. But not yet :P. I think it happens in . . . like I'll tell you, hahaha! Sorry, that was cruel . . . Thanks!

**Tramie-** Van's going to be embarressed a LOOOOOOOOOOT more. Like in this chapter! Except nobody was around to see it -.- Aw well . . . Sorry, took kinda long on that update. I'll try harder next time! Thank you!

**The lady winged Knight**- Aw, Van's been digging on Hitomi since the beginning. He just didn't know it :P. And now Van's really nice. Um . . . sorta, anyway ;. And he blushes a lot! Candy, candy! (I've gotta stop eatting junk food. For real!) Hehe, hope you liked this chapter!

**dreamingofflyingaway- **I agree with you that school is an absolute !#$!$! . My damn English grade is a B! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, stupid participation! So what, I don't talk, I'm smarter than half the class . . . Blah! -cough- Anyways, look, even more interaction between Van and Hitomi! Even some physical stuff, woooooooo. Lol, a whole hug and kiss on the cheek! Hey, I can't rush it too much, right? Hope you liked it! Thanks!

**Carla-** Yay, I actually brightened someones day! Tis a miracle! Hehe, I hate teachers. They think the world revolves around their class and their class only. People are so mean, stealing others stuff. Stupid peoples! Lol, my muse went under my bed, eh? Oh god, there's lots of stuff under my bed . . . Lessee . . . Some mangas, a bunch of folders, World Cultures textbook (ew), etc etc. Good luck finding that, lol. Thanks!

**Vi3tBaBiI-** I didn't forget you, persay. How could I ever 'forget' you! I luff you (and I see you everyday at school, lol!) And of course you didn't expect it. If anyone did, then I'd be scared. They read my mind, lol.

**Anime Monkey-** Here's my next update. Er, kinda late, but eh, nothing I can do about it! Thanks!

**Lady Luna- **Oops, eh . . . hehe, took a step backwards with the update thing, ne? Well, hope you're still watching out for this story! Thank you!

**Kita the Hanyou- **Hehe, really now? Thanks!

**Shiroi Ryuu- **Really? How long? What made you pick this story, lol? o.O Of course I'm gonna continue this story . It's so unique, hehe. Thanks!

**Now review, please? With a cherry on top? **

**-Spirit0**

**Vi3t babii - :P You're right.. I really didn't expect it. That was a GREAT chapter, don't you all agree? I hardly did any editing since it was almost perfect… except, sometimes Spirit0 gets a little crazy with commas , no worries, I helped her a bit in that area. Now REVIEW!**


	5. Barrier

Last Stop

**A/N: Wow . . . You guys REALLY wanted that update, didn't you! My bad (Please don't hurt me!) I had midterms . . . which freaked me out. (I'm a Freshman in high school, I never took midterms before o.O) -sigh- Seems I have a little more anxiety than I thought. Plus, during the middle of midterms, my coach was like 'Hey, you can start!' (Start, as in, begin the game. I'm a goaltender.) Gah, I never started with the high school before! So yeah . . . (Seriously, don't kill me, I'll try to make it up to you next chapter!)**

**On another note, my original idea for this chapter was for Hitomi and Van to go to a restaurant, but as Vi3tbabii KINDLY stated, "Van's too poor for that." XD, so I decided to take her idea instead (though, it doesn't really matter _where_ they go, so much as _what they talk_ about). (Note: I also took her suggestions on clothing; for Hitomi anyway ;).**

**Vi3tbabii: Did I really say that o.O? Wow... haha. But readers, you must agree, ne?**

**Spirit0: Meh . . .**

Chapter Five: Barrier

It was hard to tell whether or not I looked okay, for I still had not fixed my mirror. As a matter of fact, I'd just cleaned up the broken glass (I wasn't much for cleaning). I glanced down at myself for the fifty millionth time, playing with my collar in the process. There were quite a few wrinkles in my casual dark blue shirt, but I had no iron, and even if I did, I'd probably burn the clothes anyway. I glanced at the clock. It only read seven thirty. With a sigh, I sat down on my couch.

Did I really look okay? A pocket mirror wouldn't have been so bad right about now. Should I brush my hair? Na -- too many tangles, so little time to untangle them all. Should I wear a tie? No, too dressy. I didn't even know where we were going. What did the crazy girl have in mind, anyway! Too many thoughts ran through my head. I needed to do something.

I noticed a speck of blood on the bandage that wrapped my hand. The wound had finally sealed up, but I hadn't changed the bandage since. It was tacky to take a girl out on a date with a blood stained hand, wasn't it? Besides, changing it would keep me occupied for the ten or so minutes I had to spare.

In my bare bedroom, next to my bed, I began to rummage through my drawer, looking for the bandages. Snagging them, I looked up. Atop of the stand sat one lonely, torn and battered picture. Three people -- excluding an infant -- stared back at me. A man with brown eyes and a beard, a pretty, middle-aged woman, who was holding the baby, and a young boy with bluish-green hair.

My mother, father, older brother, and myself. Back when _they_ were still happy. I didn't know any better. Didn't know I would cause them so much trouble. The picture I saw in the mirror ran through my head. No . . .

I slammed the picture face down, fingers trembling. What force possessed me to keep that picture, I never could figure out. There was no point in throwing it away now; I'd already had it for seventeen years. It was amazing it even lasted that long, and not just because of how much I hated the picture . . .

Five minutes elapsed. If I didn't get a move on, I was going to be late. Couldn't make Hitomi wait. Quickly, I rebandaged my hand, grabbed the keys and what money I had, and ran out the door.

_oO_o

I didn't see Hitomi waiting at the gates, and it was difficult to find a parking spot. Eventually, I squeezed into one about a block away. The moon lit my path as it shone brightly above. The temperature was neither hot nor cold, and there was no wind. Headlights danced about. When was the last time I'd simply walked down a street like this? I couldn't even remember. But now, it felt nice, and I began to wish I did it more often.

Hitomi was standing by the gate by the time I got there. She was wearing a simple white blouse and a green skirt, which brought out her stunning eyes even more. Adorning no makeup and hair let loose as usual, I still felt a blush creep into my cheeks. Was I sick or something? Maybe my collar was too tight. When she noticed me, she started walking towards me.

"Hello, Van!" she greeted more cheerfully then ever.

"H-hey." Oh, now I want to get nervous!

"You look handsome tonight," she commented. "It's odd to see you in regular clothing."

My blush deepened. "Well . . . I don't get out much anyway. I mean, look at these clothes, all wrinkly." I shrugged. "Besides, I'm nothing compared to you."

It was Hitomi's turn to blush. "Oh, be quiet! You don't mean it!"

I stared at her. "I _do_ mean it," I whispered sincerely.

She punched me lightly on the shoulder as we began to walk to the car. _"Van!"_

I rubbed my shoulder lightly and pouted, as if her measly punch had really hurt. Then I noticed the blanket in her hand. "Hey, where are we going?" I inquired, since _I_ was the one driving, after all.

"The park," she said simply.

"The _park_? What are we going to do at eight o'clock at night at _the park_?" I asked incredulously.

"Why, stargaze, of course," she said, like it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The weather is perfect, and the moon is almost full! Haven't you ever been stargazing before, Van?"

I thought of when I was little and how I use to look out my window, staring at the stars with tears, praying. "No," I replied sternly.

Hitomi seemed to shrink from my gruff tone of voice. "You've missed out. It'll be fun. Trust me!" With that, she grabbed my hand, and dragged me (as if she could drag _me_) along to the car.

"I trust you . . ." I whispered. She didn't hear.

o_O_o

After grabbing hot dogs and such for dinner at a fast food place, Hitomi and I set out to find the perfect spot to stargaze at the park. Truthfully, any damn place would've been fine with me, but Hitomi would hear none of it. After much trekking, she _finally _settled for the side of a hill that faced the moon. As she laid the blanket down, I was almost glad she hadn't settled for my earlier, poorer, suggestions.

We laid on the blanket in silence, staring up at the stars in wonder. I had to admit, it was peaceful, just lying on my back, looking at bright little dots in the sky. All the muscles in my body relaxed as I breathed lightly. My fingers stretched out, and, though she was a respective distance away, brushed Hitomi's hand. She made no reaction. I withdrew my hand quickly.

"Isn't it peaceful?" Hitomi asked quietly, shifting her head to face me.

"Yeah . . ." I trailed off. I didn't know what else to say; didn't know what else to do. Instead of making a fool of myself by saying something stupid, I just lay quietly, and didn't meet her shining eyes.

It was as if I could feel her become slightly disheartened by my lack of enthusiasm. Turning again to the sky, she said with a slight, uneasy laugh, "My younger brother and I use to do this all the time. Our parents often got mad at us for staying up late."

"You . . . have a younger brother?" I asked slowly, glancing over at her, pondering where the conversation was going. There was one thing I knew: it wasn't going in a good direction, but I asked anyway. I couldn't find a way around this situation.

A soft smile crossed Hitomi's features as she remembered her brother. "Yes. His name is Mamoru. He's . . . oh, he's got to be sixteen, maybe even seventeen now. A junior in high school. Gets decent grades. He plays the guitar. He and his friends are trying to put together a rock band. That's his dream, I think, to be in a rock band." She sighed.

As she described her younger brother, I thought of my who-knows-where older one. Folken Lacor de Fanel; ten full years older than me, tall, smart, with blue-green hair and dark brown eyes. Teachers loved him, girls swooned over him, everyone adored him. Oh yes, the epitome of a perfect child. My parents loved him deeply.

I hated him. I hated them all.

"Van? Van, are you okay?" Hitomi's worried voice broke my reverie. Startled, my expression was blank for a moment, as I stared into her questioning—and scared—eyes.

"I-I'm okay . . ." I replied slowly, trying to come up with a response. "You're brother sounds like a cool guy."

Hitomi gave a little humph, and rolled her eyes. "You mean super-annoying guy, right? Ever since he became a teenager, he never stops teasing me! And playing really loud music! And . . . _ugh_!"

The way she said such mean, yet playful, things about her brother alone was priceless, but Hitomi's facial expressions were even better. By the end of her little commentary, I could hear myself chuckling lightly. Me, chuckling? Was that even possible? But I was, I really was.

And it was the greatest feeling I'd had in a long, long while.

Hitomi stared at me incredulously; wide-eyed, amazed, speechless. I instantly stopped my childish giggling out of fear that she thought I was laughing at her. But as soon as I stopped, she gave me an awkward, yet still soft, smile. And before I could question or react, I was holding her in my arms, with her head in the crook of my neck.

"That's the first time I ever saw you smile . . ." she whispered softly into my chest.

I blushed so deeply that my face just had to be brighter than any star could be. But I held onto her, and smiled slightly again. We didn't move from that position for a good half hour or more.

_oO_o

Later, when we were driving home, Hitomi started up our conversation about family again. Only this time, I was supposed to be the one talking. It was the thing I had dreaded from the moment the word '_brother'_ had crossed her lips.

"Do you have any siblings, Van?"

I glanced at her warily, becoming slightly fidgety. After a decent enough pause, I decided not to lie my way out of _this_ question. "Yes."

"Really?" Hitomi asked with childish curiosity. My heart fell. "Brother? Sister? Younger? Older? Come on, tell me. You can't keep a secret from me."

_Oh, yes, I _can I thought. "Older brother," I said without feeling, cold, distant. My brain was sending out warning signals to the security system of an impending attack. A steel door was raised between the girl next to me and my heart.

She seemed to notice my change of attitude, but as usual, pretended to be ignorant of it. "Is he nice, handsome, smart, annoying, what?"

Taking my eyes off the road as we slowed at a red light, I stared hard at her. Hitomi's eyes were no less hard. I replied with a carefully picked answer. "I don't know."

Hitomi seemed confused. I suppose I would've been too, if someone had said that to me (and if I hadn't been raised under the circumstances). But, to my agitation, there was just no stopping this girl. "What do you mean . . . you don't know?"

"Haven't seen him in years," I said flatly, beginning to drive again. That, in retrospect, was not a lie. I told her I had a brother. I told her he was older. I told her I didn't know what he was like because I hadn't seen him in years. Those were all true. But I would not, even if she asked, tell her why. After all, he was dead to me.

Now I expected Hitomi to ask exactly why I hadn't seen Folken in years. Yet instead, she asked, "May I see where you live?"

Stunned, my eyes widened as I looked at her in surprise. "Where I live? My apartment?"

"Yes."

Without thinking it through, I said with shrug, and a little embarrassment, "I suppose, but what would you want to see my raggedy apartment for?"

Me and my stupid questions . . .

oOo

By the time we reached my apartment, a permanent blush adorned my cheeks. The rest of the ride home, Hitomi'd talked about her mother, father, her friends, and even a little more about her brother. They all sounded wonderful, and I couldn't help giving her a light smile again. Hitomi seemed to love my smile. What was so great about it? I certainly didn't have the enigmatic, warm smile she had.

The real embarrassment came, though, when we entered my apartment building. It wasn't a very high building, but it still had a good fifteen floors. My apartment was on the eleventh floor. So, we had to walk through the crowds of people in the lobby and hop on the elevator to reach my room. True, I never really got to know anyone, yet they all stared at Hitomi and I. Some even gave sly smiles, and one guy even gave me the thumbs up when Hitomi wasn't looking. I felt like I could die from overheating.

"Sorry for the mess . . ." I said quietly, picking a random piece of paper up from the floor, crumpling it, and then throwing it away. Hitomi didn't pay attention. She silently observed my living conditions. They weren't much. A small living room that was also a dining room, connected to the kitchen, with a skinny hallway, which had a closet, leading to the one room. The bathroom was connected to the bedroom and the hallway.

Furniture was sparse. In the living room, there was a couch with a coffee table and a small television on a stand. Behind that, the part I considered the dining room, was a table that could accommodate two people comfortably. The kitchen had all the normal things- a sink, a stove, a refrigerator, and most importantly, a microwave. I didn't have a dishwasher. What little dishes I had, I managed to wash by hand.

Hitomi walked towards the television. Beyond it was about the only thing that, perhaps, gave me any character. Along the wall, up to my eye level, was a bookshelf that I'd put together myself (as if I'd go out and _buy_ a bookshelf). The shelves were packed with books of all kinds-- from comic to horror, action to adventure, and even sappy drama to even sappier romance. I had so many books, they didn't even fit on all those shelves.

"You like to read?" Hitomi asked as she looked over at where I still stood by the door.

"Yeah," I replied, plopping down on my couch. This was uncomfortable. "Um . . . do you want to watch some t.v.?"

"Sure," Hitomi replied. I was about to sigh in relief when she continued, "Right after I see the rest of your apartment."

"What?" I said, jumping up to follow her into my bedroom. "But . . . there is nothing left to see!"

"Says you," she replied with a playful smile. What the hell was she _looking_ for! I was at a loss for words.

Sometimes I wondered which was worse-- my living room or my own bedroom. Or perhaps they were equal in their dullness. My bedroom had only three pieces of furniture-- a bed, a bed stand with a reading lamp, and a dresser. The dresser was obviously to store my clothes, the bed obviously for sleeping, and the bed stand to hold the reading lamp. But she noticed one thing instantly-- the picture.

Hitomi walked over to my dresser and gently picked up the picture. Something inside of me wanted to scream _No, that's mine! MINE!_ But I couldn't. My feet were glued just inside the doorway. So all I could do was watch her as her finger gingerly traced the frame. As she scrutinized the picture, I don't think I'd ever seen her look so serious.

"Is this your family?" she asked quietly, looking hard at me again.

"Yeah . . ."

"It's kind of old, don't you think?" she interrupted.

"Yeah," I was starting to sound like a broken record.

"Is that your brother?"

"Yes."

"And your parents?"

"Yes, okay, _yes_!" I snapped, my breath becoming labored. Hitomi gave me a startled look. Instant regret swept over me. "I mean . . ." I began quietly, looking down at the floor. "I . . . mean . . ."

Yet again I was wrapped up in her embrace. Though comforting, these hugs were still awkward. And I still didn't know what to say. And I still didn't know what to do. I was so . . . confused.

"You shouldn't keep all your feelings inside, you know," she whispered into my chest. "You can tell someone. You can tell _me_ what's wrong."

I said nothing.

"I remember, that first day we met," she continued in a mollifying voice. "You were so distant and cold. A person couldn't even hold a conversation with you. But I could see in your eyes, and your body language, that deep down you wanted to be nice. And now look, I can hold a conversation with you, you're nice, and you _smiled_."

I leaned into her.

"And you know what?" she whispered directly into my ear. "Your smile is beautiful, even if you try to deny it, it really is."

After a few moments of silence, I broke our embrace. With my apparently "beautiful" smile (which I still thought had to be a crock). Perhaps one day I would open up to her, but not just yet. Instead, I said, "It's getting late . . . I'll take you back to your dorm."

The ride to Hitomi's dorm actually wasn't that bad. We went back to having more pleasant conversations. She even purposefully avoided discussion about family, much to my relief. More awkward silence came, though, when we actually reached the dorm.

We were standing outside the gate, saying good night-- or, at least, trying to say good night. I was finding it a little hard to get those words out. Mainly because a small voice inside of me kept telling me to kiss her . . .

"Well, it was fun," Hitomi said as I released her hand. Since when had we been holding hands?

"Yeah, it was fun," again with the "yeah"!

She gave me a peck on the cheek. "You'll tell me one day soon, right?"

"Perhaps," was all I could say.

Hitomi gave me a reassuring smile as she turned. "Oh, you'll tell me."

"Is that a threat?" I scoffed.

"Nighty-night, Van," she said without saying if it was a threat or not.

"'Night . . ."

_Damn, I should have kissed her._

**To Be Continued**

**A/N: Yes, bwhaha, thanks to the snow, I finally finished it! Yay! -people boo- Feh. This chapter feels a little . . . rushed. But it was getting repetitive. Don't you all just want Van to get over it already? Well, the moment you've all been waiting for comes next chapter! Though, not as you may expect. And it's sad for me to think that next chapter marks more than halfway through the entire fic -sobs-.**

**Vi3tbabi: Wow… that was such an uber cute chapter! So much fluffiness! Spirit0's writing keeps getting better and better! Don't you agree, readers? (I love snow…)**

**Spirit0: Why cute! Someone tell me why!**

**Review Replies- **

**Carrie21-** Hehe, yes, Van really is such a sweet guy. That's why I love him so much -huggles Vanny boy-. Hm . . . Yeah, I suppose getting one person out of billions of people is a nice feeling. Sorry, it's my pessimistic side talking. It's odd, I never thought I'd be good at writing a fic that had no "evil guy" or "villian". But this is pretty fun :). Sorry, their date kinda turned dark there, ne? And uber sorry for the wait! Thanks!

**Grrl N-** Hehe -scratches head sheepishly- Yeah well, you probably won't be seeing Allen again. I only needed him for his sudden, -cough- unwanted, appearance. But perhaps he will (though, it'd still be random and sudden). Ha , Hana is so cool (is it right for the author to say that?) I never planned for her to play such a big role on Van's life. But she has, and will continue to. Anyways, sorry for the wait and thanks!

**Tramie**- Oh, so Allen twisted Van's ankle, pish. Damn, I should have made Van do something really really painful to Allen. Aw well. Hehe, this chapter felt odd, with no bus, orphanage, or Hana to write about! But of course, those things will come back next chapter, with the drastic twist everyone (well, okay, maybe not everyone) is waiting for! Except I might be awhile writing that chapter too. Well, anyway, thanks for the review and sorry for the wait.

**Avelyn Lauren-** Hm... I'm willing to take any suggestions on a story Van should tell the kids at the orphanage. I'm not good at that sorta stuff. Little kids are not my fortee! (-thinks- So where did Hana come from! o.O) Haha, yes, I always wanted to write a scene where Van just took it all to Allen. -evil laugh- And now I have. My life is complete (well, not really, there's still the college and job thing, and hockey too, heheh) Thank you for the review and super sorry for the wait.

**Inda**- Oops, that definitely wasn't soon! (When WAS the last time I updated?) -sheepish- Sorry for the long wait and thanks!

**f-zelda**- Did I answer your questions on Hitomi's life? Don't worry, there will be more on her life later! And as for Hana, that will come later too! But for right now, Hana remains a sort of leaning rock for Van. (A six year old helping out a twenty five year old, heh, that's just so great . . .) But thanks for the review and sorry for the waiting!

**Nyeren-** I feel bad. Really, I meant to update sooner -sobs-. Stupid school wasn't letting me! And then . . . I dunno, other stuff. But I enjoyed the review anyway. And pointless Van and Hitomi ickiness is bad. I _try_ to make my stories meaningful (note the word try). Though sometimes, it's a little hard on my small brain, heh. Oh well, thanks and really really sorry about the wait (I'll try to do better next time!).

**PetiteCarnatla**- Aw, perfect? Can anything be truly perfect? -shrugs- I'm not so sure. But don't cry! It's not suppose to be sad yet! I mean . . . uh . . . ignore the word 'yet', hehe. And I think my muse ran away for a while there . . . Actually, no, it didn't, it created two new story ideas instead of working on the ones I'm already writing. -sigh- I would write those stories, except . . . Then I'd never find the time to update, haha. Anyway, thanks and sorry for the wait. (P.S. I think that's how you spell 'jealousness', hehe)

**Athanase-** Ahhhhhhhh, I failed the puppy eyes! -sobs- I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's not my fault (then who's fault is it?)! But anyways, I feel much distain for 'Barbie' (as my friend affectionately calls Allen :P) as well. Hm... guess their Saturday night didn't go as planned, ne? But will it lead to more Saturday nights together? o.O Only I know the answer -evil laugh-. Hehe, sorry, just playing and thanks!

**Cloud Fallen Angel**- Ehe, I've really gotta figure out this 'cute' thing, haha. But yeah, sorry for the wait and thank you for the review!

**Lady Snow Blood**- Thanks for the encouraging words and sorry for the longer than expected wait!

**jossi-31**- Hehe, thank you!

**kairi-heartilly- **I tried, I really tried to update soon. But it didn't work -sobs-. Sorry and thanks for the review!

**Cherry Dragon**- Haha, what's a story without some comedy thrown in? (though I'm usually not good at it -sheepish grin-) I tried to add some in this chapter too, but it was harder because of all the seriousness floating around. But anyways, thanks for the review and sorry for the wait!

**C.G Forever is Now**- That's a powerful word, hehe. Thanks!

**dreamingofflyingaway- **Haha, I've fallen behind in participation again. But at least this time I have better grades in general to back it up. And there has really been no reason for me to participate, you know? And dang, 27 chapters? Hehe, I can barely make ten chapters sometimes, lol. Thanks for the review and sorry for the torture of waiting!

**laloner- **Mehe, I definitely fail in the 'update soon' department. Lol, but thanks and sorry!

**Anime Monkey**- Haha, that was a good rhyme. It made me laugh XD. Thanks and sorry for the long wait!

**Flaire321**- Yay, you used the adjective 'cool' instead of 'cute' or something else that is like cute! Hehe, sorry, just had to say it! Thanks!

**Lady Luna**- . . . -scared- Or else? Waaaaaaaaah, I so suck at updating! Forgive me! But thanks for the review!

**annie- **Heh, I have a thing against cliches. I try to avoid them at all costs! Thanks for the review and sorry for the lack of an update!

**Sakura onto Hitomi**- Sweet things! -munches- Really . . . gotta stop eatting this stuff. -has a bad diet- Oh well. Van's personality will get deeper and deeper until it explodes (in a sense, lol). And I have come to love Hana even though I never planned for her to have such a big role. Thanks!

**The lady winged knight**- Aw, stupid not letting you sign in? It's okay, I know who 'tis! Yay, I made the chapter funny! -Accomplishment- And computers suck. Grrrrrr, whoever invented computers should burn in hell. Computers will take over the world! -cough- Uh . . . yeah, hehe. Thanks and sorry for the wait!

**Dalafanole-** Hehe, I like Van and Hitomi's random hugs. It keeps you on your toes. Thanks and sorry for the long wait!

**Strawberryz**- Lol, I try to keep Van's character the same. Okay, I try to keep everyones character the same except Hitomi's ('cause she really annoys me!) Hehe, sorry for the wait and thanks for the review!

**persuna- **Updated! (FINALLY, ne? Lol) Thanks!

**ROTTENAPPLES**- And do you still like where this story is going? Hehe, thanks and sorry for the long wait!

**-neck has a kink- To I go . . . Hehe.**

**Oh yes, I'll be updating my other story, "When Doves Cry", first next time (and I will refrain from writing two new fanfics!)**

**-Spirit0**


	6. Time to Pay

**A/N: It's the chapter you've all been waiting for! -drum roll- The truth about Van is revealed! But besides this, I feel crappy . . . -sobs- Sorry, but school work took forever (stupid English and World Cultures!) And I couldn't find a hockey team to play on (GR). And and . . . I kept watching _Tsubasa Chronicle_! (the manga is so much better, but the music is awesome. I suppose it's fun to see them move too, heh. And I was watching _Bleach_ as well . . .) Aw, whatever, I'll just get on with it.**

**Last Stop**

_The weeks passed by in a rush of happiness that I had never felt before. I began to smile frequently, even when I wasn't with Hitomi or Hana. Although I didn't realize it, I was wrapped in a radiating cocoon of love. Life finally seemed worth living. But even love could not pierce the darkest recesses of my heart, until one day, God decided to help me along . . ._

Chapter Six: Time to Pay

Mornings. So tiring, so hard to wake up for, so _blah_. I definitely was not a morning person (Okay, so I hated all parts of the day . . .). But I began to wonder which I dreaded more: mornings or nights. Nights are nice; you get to just sit around and relax. But mornings are the beginning of a whole new adventure. A clean slate, waiting to be written on. They were the beginning of. . .

Another day with Hitomi.

The time we spent together was constantly growing; Saturdays, Sundays, both; she even came back to my apartment sometimes after we went to the orphanage. And when she left, I always felt lonely, like something was missing and I couldn't find it. How did I ever survive the days with just myself to care about? I couldn't remember. But it didn't matter. Hitomi was on my mind constantly.

Yet I still hadn't told her. Nothing. Not even a hint. The timing, the place, the _everything_, was never right. Just like I still hadn't kissed her. What was wrong with me? I was more of a chicken than I ever thought.

But Hitomi wasn't the only girl on my mind. Hana always lurked somewhere in the background as well. Sweet, innocent little Hana. How could I resist her? Her smile, her laugh, her spontaneous, profound questions, everything. After all that she'd been through, she could still smile happily at me. It was hard not to smile back. And it was even harder to believe a million people weren't trying to adopt her.

If I had been as strong as her, what would my life have been like?

I weaved through the buses slowly, trying to reach mine. I hated that thought. _What would my life have been like?_ Who cares what my life would have been like? I couldn't take back the past. Besides, it could've been crappy anyway. I could've been adopted by some crappy family, living in some crappy neighborhood, going to some crappy school. But I wasn't; I was just a lonely, pessimistic bastard.

"Van?"

I jumped in surprise, looking at my boss standing in front of my bus. He had a tool box with him. Tuning up the bus? No . . .

"Sir?" I replied politely, masking my surprise with a blank, sleepy stare.

He stared back at me for a moment, digging for something, until he finally said. "You're different."

"Wha . . . What?" I asked, confused. It was too early in the morning for these games.

"From the first day I met you. You're different," he repeated, as if that explained all.

"I . . . don't understand," was all I could muster. But I understood perfectly well. I'm not that oblivious.

He gazed at me again and just smiled, a good-natured smile. "Of course you don't. You can't see the transition in yourself. But you aren't as morbid anymore. That orphanage must be good for you after all."

"Yes . . ." I drawled, allowing a small smile to creep upon my lips. "It's the greatest thing I've ever done."

My boss laughed. "It's weird, you know? You almost seem like you're _in love_ or something, rather than just some guy doing a nice deed"

I couldn't say anything.

oOo

"It's nice to see you again, Van."

"Nice to see you again, too," I replied, a bit awkwardly. I had been wondering where she was, but I hadn't bothered to ask Dryden. It was always possible that even Mr. Happiness could get divorced, wasn't it? But I suppose I should have known better. Dryden and Millerna went together like peanut butter and bananas.

"So, how have you been?" Millerna asked, smiling at me gently, like a mother. I always thought the blond haired, blue eyed woman would make a great mother. Perhaps that's why she took up working at the orphanage . . . Or maybe it was just because Dryden happened to own the place. Who knew?

"Fine," I replied dryly. When I was younger, though not much, and under her care, Millerna had always had a way of making me tell her my feelings. Sort of. Now, it seemed, her powers over me had diminished.

She pouted, that same pout she always gave me. "That's all? After all this time, I only get a 'fine'?"

"Yes," I replied, unwavering.

Millerna sighed in defeat, then smiled. "I guess my powers over you are gone now that you're a _man_."

"What powers? You never had any power over me," I said, trying to mask my true self from her for once.

"Don't even kid yourself, Van," she laughed.

I glanced off into the distance. Kidding myself was one of my best traits. I watched Hitomi and Hana as they played at the other end of the yard. I couldn't kid with Hitomi, though. And I couldn't lie, either. I just couldn't tell the truth.

"Aren't you going to ask where I've been?" Millerna asked, following my gaze playfully.

"Don't care," I growled, ready to ditch her in a second.

"I told you to stop kidding yourself! Well, I've been in another country helping out orphanages there. Think things are bad over here? You should see some of these places . . ." her voice faded.

"I said I didn't care, and I meant it. Besides," I watched as Hana ran towards me, "you should be fixing _this_ damn country before you try fixing the world."

"Van!" Hana exclaimed, tugging at the tail of my shirt exasperatedly. She looked so cute. "Why don't you come play?"

I scooped her up quickly and with relative ease. She hated it when I cradled her in my arms as if she were some little baby. Or at least, she claimed she did. But I knew she liked it, secretly. What little kid doesn't? (Besides me?) I stared down at her indifferently, a small smile threatening to emerge. "What's the matter? Hitomi not good enough for you anymore? You know I had to pass inspection. Millerna wouldn't want anything to happen to you because of mean old Van."

Yeah, like I said, I was still lying about everything related to my childhood. Including my relations to Millerna and Dryden.

"You're not mean," Hana giggled.

"Well, not to sweat little girls," I replied, setting her solidly on the ground again.

"You're not mean to me, either," Hitomi said, nudging me.

"Like I said," patting her on the head as if she were in elementary school, "Not to sweat little girls!"

Hitomi jammed her elbow into my ribs, trying to actually cause pain. "I'll get you for that, Van Fanel!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say,"I replied. I turned my attention back to Hana. "So, what did you want to play with me instead of lowly Hitomi?"

"Argh, _Van!"_ Hitomi looked ready to pounce. I chuckled.

"No, no, no," Hana scolded, in that tone that every child seemed to have when they are exasperated with adults. "I want to play with both of you!"

"Oh, I see," I said as I reached for her hand, "you're just greedy."

Millerna coughed suddenly to get our attention. I'd forgotten she was even there. Then again, so had Hana and Hitomi. We were all too wrapped up in insulting each other (Okay, so _I_ was doing most of the insulting).

"Hitomi, I don't mean to be a bother . . ." Millerna began coyly, "but would you mind retrieving a folder from my desk?"

"Not a problem!" Hitomi exclaimed, already heading in the direction of Millerna's office.

"You can't miss it! It doesn't have anything written on the front, but it's huge! And it should be the only folder on the desk!"

"Okay!" Hitomi called back before going inside.

"Come on, Van," Hana tugged at my hand.

After a moments hesitation, I nodded. "Okay . . ."

oOo

Ten minutes passed, and still Hitomi had not returned. How long did it take to deliver a freaking folder! Something smelt fishy. Sure, Hitomi wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but she also wasn't _that_ much of a dimwit. What could be taking her so long? What was she doing? Where was she? Crazy thoughts started running through my mind.

Eleven minutes.

Hana and I were playing catch. Hana wasn't much of a thrower, as most young children aren't. It was easy to get distracted from our game; every time I got the ball, I simply had to flick my wrist in her direction. She, rather comically, used both hands and was still only able to get the ball about half the distance. After a minute or two (and after getting mad at herself for being unable to throw the ball), she noticed how distracted I was.

"Van, you're not paying attention," she whined, carrying the ball in her hands.

"Huh?" my focus slowly turned back to her. "Oh . . . I am so paying attention."

"Where's Hitomi?" Hana asked, staring at me, boring into my soul and prying apart my thoughts.

"I was just wondering that . . ." I said quietly. "I think I'll go look for her. Stay put. I'll be back in a minute or two."

Wrong again.

oOo

_No. No, what was that folder doing there? Why did they still have it? How? Why? How did Hitomi find it? Why was it just lying there? No . . . I was going to tell her, I really was. It was a set up. No . . . damn it, _no

Sweat ran down my face as I just laid there, breathing heavily. I covered my mouth with my hand. I couldn't believe. Hitomi knew. Just like that, Hitomi knew. Millerna . . . Damn her, she set me up. I played right into her hands. There was no way I could ever out play her. And now Hitomi knew.

What would happen now? This was something I couldn't run away from. I couldn't avoid Hitomi for the rest of my life. Unless, of course, I gave up my job and moved halfway around the world. But that was impossible. What to do? What to do?

She had been sitting there quietly, her back slightly to the door, studying something. For a few moments, I just stood there, admiring how pretty she looked with a serious face. Then it clicked. A serious face? What was she doing? Stealthily, I crept just inside the doorway. The light of the doorway and a small lamp made a picture visible. I squinted. A boy with unruly hair, piercing eyes, and a gut-wrenching frown. My eyes widened in shock, and perhaps a bit of horror.

It was me.

Somewhere along the line, I must have let something slip, for Hitomi turned around in a flash, attempting to conceal the folder. Upon seeing me, she jumped up, seemingly horrified herself. Pain was etched in her eyes.

"Van . . . I . . . you . . ." Hitomi stuttered. Nothing was coming. All she could manage was a shake of the head.

I stepped backward, silhouetted in the doorway. The smiles, the openness, the _happiness_ I'd achieved the past month or two crumbled with this revelation. And all the hate which had been suppressed came rushing back through my veins.

"No . . ." I whispered menacingly, stepping out of the doorway into the hallway. "_No_ . . ." was all I said before running.

"_Van!"_

oOo

Cold water felt nice as it ran down my face, mingling with hot sweat. I had to calm down, think rationally. It was a good thing I hadn't fixed my mirror yet; it'd probably be shattered again. Plus, I couldn't see my disheveled self. Wet fingers intertwined with my hair as I stared at the faucet.

A knock came from my front door. It could only be one person.

"Go away," I whispered, impossible for Hitomi to hear, especially from the bathroom.

Another knock.

Slowly I walked to the front door and leaned on it. By now, Hitomi was calling my name.

"Van . . . Open the door, I know you're there!"

I hesitated. "You know nothing . . ."

"Van, please," she begged. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do, and you know it," she cried.

Silence.

I unlocked the door, opening it just a crack. Hitomi was standing there, her eyes frantic, and even a little hurt. I inched the door open the rest of the way until we stood facing each other. She walked in slowly, and plopped down on the couch, like this was something normal. I closed the door and leaned on it.

Silence.

"Damn you," I hissed. "You come to talk, yet you're not talking."

She stared at me, a sad, painful stare. "I think you're the one who needs to talk," she said quietly.

I smiled; not my "beautiful" one, but my old, evil one. I chuckled. "I don't even know where to begin . . . Tell me what you know."

"Sit down, Van," Hitomi commanded.

"Why should I?" I growled.

"Please . . ."

I shrugged. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

I plopped down next to her, leaving some distance. In truth, it did matter. Just her presence ruffled me. If I weren't so furious, I'd probably give in to her. I was so . . . pathetic.

"When you were eight . . . you were left on the orphanage steps, sitting in the rain, completely drenched before anyone found you. No information could be found on your parents. Not that you wanted to know of your parents. There were signs of starvation. You refused to talk much. You were especially spiteful towards possible adoptive parents. As a result, you were never adopted. But you had a talent in writing. Dryden and Millerna paid for you to go to college. You dropped out," Hitomi stated these facts in a monotone voice. After a moment, she turned to me. I said nothing. "That's all I know. Which means I know nothing."

"You're fucking right you know nothing," I said coldly. A little too coldly. Hitomi winced at my profanity. What was I doing? Technically, Hitomi hadn't done anything wrong.

"So what if I was malnourished? . . ."

_Muffled voices filtered through the door. They sounded angry. They always sounded angry. What had I done now? I never knew why they were angry . . . I could never understand. But I knew it had something to do with me. Perhaps Folken too. But more with me._

_My stomach growled. I knew better than to ask for food. That had something to do with it, too. There wasn't much food. Compared to other kids, I was so skinny. But I knew better than to ask for food. I knew there wasn't any. If there was, I would've gotten it already._

_I crept towards the doorway and put my ear to it. I could make out what my parents were saying, but I didn't understand. "We can't do that!" my mother cried._

_"Why not! It's best for him. Living here only makes him suffer!" my father exclaimed._

_"Because he's ours! And what about Folken?"_

_"Folken is older. He could be useful. He can fend for himself."_

_"He suffers, too."_

_"He's too old, damn it!"_

_A hand touched my shoulder. I jumped. But it was only my brother. It was only Folken smiling down on me. He was never angry. He always had a smile that touched his eyes. He never yelled like mommy and daddy. "Van . . . are you hungry?"_

_"No." I lied. I always lied. I never knew what would happen if I said yes._

_"I have a little snack. If you want it, you have to come away from the door. Don't you want it?" Folken always tried to cover up our parents fighting. He knew something I didn't. But I was hungry . . ._

_I ate whatever it was Folken was giving me slowly. I couldn't even see what it was. It was night time, plus rainy, and there were few lights in our house. Soon, our parents came out from behind the door. The moonlight sifted though the window, broken by drops of rain. They looked very sad. _

_My mother hugged me. "Go get your coat," she whispered._

_"Why? Where are we going, mommy?"_

_"Shh. Please . . .just do it."_

Hitomi closed her eyes as I paused.

_The rain was cold as it pounded against my bare skin. I had a rain jacket on, but it was too small. I hadn't gotten new clothes in a year or two. But I didn't say anything._

_We were standing in front of some sort of building. I couldn't make out the sign. It didn't look familiar, though. My parents sat me down on the step. Folken was waiting in our beat up car. He seemed very upset about something. So did my parents._

_"Why are we here, mommy? Why is everyone so sad?" I asked, confused and hurt. I was still hungry. And cold. _

_My mother embraced me. "You wouldn't understand . . ." She started crying. "You're too young to understand . . ."_

_"Mom . . . my?" I asked, scared._

_She stood up, standing next to my father. They started to walk away. I stood up. My father turned around. "No, Van. You mustn't follow. Stay there. We'll be back for you."_

_I didn't know what to do. I'd never disobeyed my father. So I sat back down and watched as they got in the car and drove away. I sat there all night in the rain. But they never came back. They said they'd come back . . . But they never came back for me._

Hitomi opened her eyes again. They were sparkling with unsprung tears.

"So I was stuck at the orphanage. At the time, Dryden's father owned the place . . ."

_"He refuses to play. At all. Even by himself. He just sits there. You tell him to color, and you know what he'll do? He'll color the whole page black. He won't leave even one little white spot. He says that's what his heart looks like. Empty. We've tried therapy, but he doesn't seem to be responding to it. And by god, you should see what this kid writes!"_

_I was a horrible child. I could never do anything right. But why should I listen to them? They weren't my parents. I was alone in the world. I wasn't wanted. I didn't want their help. I was a horrible child. They were always talking about me._

_"You're doing all you can. But I thought writing was some sort of comfort for this kid? I thought he was good at it?"_

_"Oh, he's an excellent writer. It's what he writes _about_. Van . . . it's like he's _composed_ of hate and sadness. There is not an ounce of happiness in his words. And his words . . . reach out and touch you. They're that powerful. And it hurts, because all you feel is pain. It's the same feeling you get when you look into his eyes. They're such a unique auburn, a dark fire, and you can feel them burn. Even so, I think writing is a release of energy for Van. No matter how depressing."_

_The door cracked open as I accidentally leaned too hard. Meiden, the owner of Fassa Foundation, and another worker were revealed. I walked away quietly._

_"I see . . ."_

"Van . . ." Hitomi choked, the tears beginning to spill.

"I'm not done yet," I said quietly, chuckling. "Under Dryden, I was to go to college . . ."

_"I don't want to go!" I exclaimed. What was with this guy? I thought Meiden was bad . . . His son, Dryden, is worse. He's always forcing me into things. He won't even ask my opinion of things._

_"You're going, and I don't care what you say. You've got talent, Van, why don't you share it?" Dryden replied calmly. Calm, calm, calm. He was always calm._

_"Why do you want me to share such things?"_

_Dryden stared at me for a minute. "Because I believe one day, you'll find someone who you will want to share 'such things' with. Spread it to the world; I'm sure there's at least one person who will understand."_

_"I hate you."_

oOo

_I screwed up again. Again and again. They kept lying to me. They kept telling me the truth. Half and half. I couldn't find a middle. Dryden lied, and my professor told the truth. I didn't like either of them. _

_"I'm sorry, Van. Your writing just isn't suitable. You have a strong voice, an odd, yet powerful writing style, but you lack . . . the ability to make people want more. Sad stories, they're fine, but yours . . . Sting. Can't you muster even an iota of happiness? No one can be so pessimistic."_

_I walked towards the door. There was no point in arguing, because I didn't disagree. But before I left, I said the stupid, overused proverb, "Never say never," and stormed out._

"And now I'm a bus driver, visiting everyday the very place I loath, pouring out my heart to some girl!"

By now, Hitomi allowed her tears to flow unchecked. She didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. I pondered what I'd just told her. Had I ever _told_ anyone that before? No. And suddenly . . . It hurt. Was _this_ the power of my words?

A sad smile crept onto my face. "I'm a horrible child," I whispered. "I can never do anything right. I'm such a horrible child . . . Folken is so much better." By now, my eyes were filled with tears. "Horrible . . ." A little trickle of salty water slid down my cheek.

"No, Van . . ." Hitomi had finally regained control of herself. She was reaching out for my hand. _This is all her fault_, my brain cried She was the reason I was crying. She was my problem. A sudden rage unleashed itself, causing me to jump up in frantic state.

"_Shut up!_ You think just because I told you that, now you know me all the sudden? Well, let me tell you something: you don't know _jack shit_ about me! I don't want your damn pity. I don't want anything from you. I don't even know why I told you."

Hitomi stood up, too. It took her a moment to stabilize herself, for she was still quiet shaken. But there was something intimidating in her bright green eyes. Something that wouldn't be pushed down by my hollow yelling. It was determination.

"You're wrong," was all she said.

I gazed at her like she were some loon. "What?"

"You're not a horrible child. Your parents loved you. That's why they left you at the orphanage. Folken was just too old, and perhaps an asset; don't you see? It's not your fault your parents didn't have enough money to support you. Don't eat yourself up about that. It's not your _fault_."

I'd heard this explanation at least a million times. When I was younger, I had never accepted it. And as I got older, I always shrugged it off. But deep in my heart, I knew it was true. I didn't blame myself for that anymore. It was just that I'd loved my parents so much. And it hurt when the people whose hand you held so tightly suddenly let go.

"And . . . and I do know you. Maybe I don't know all about your past, and maybe I don't even know what your favorite color is, but I know _you_. I know the Van that isn't held down by the past. I know you for who you are, right here and now. You're the guy who attracts a small girl who opens up to no one. You're the guy who lets people ride the bus even if they don't have the money. You're the guy who has a smile that's brighter than the sun." At that moment, our eyes locked, and a soft smile spread over Hitomi's face. Her body was warm against mine. "And I love that guy," she whispered into my ear, kissing my cheek ever so lightly.

'Love'. Love is a word that is thrown around just like any other word. 'Love' and 'hate'. Both are misused. By everyone. I threw around the word hate like it was some play thing. But when Hitomi said the word love, there was more sincerity in that one word than all the hundreds of thousands of words I'd ever written.

When was the last time someone had said they'd loved me and meant it? Various people at the orphanage had told me several times. Dryden and Millerna had told me every day. Yet none of their words were as powerful as Hitomi's one. Her word was only rivaled by that of my mothers. And look where that got me . . .

"You're funny," I whispered, gazing down at Hitomi. Her eyes still held that flame of determination. "How can you love me?"

"You never wronged me. Rather, you've made my life ridiculously happy. All I ever think about is _you_. I get distracted during class. I'll think about you in the hallway and start smiling like a doofus. I can't wait to spend time with you in the afternoon. No, simply loving you is an understatement. I love you more than anyone or anything I've ever loved before."

For once, I couldn't find any words. My mind was a jumble of nonsense. How does one respond to such a statement? I couldn't control my body anymore. It was all too sudden. How did our lips become locked? It was a rough, sloppy kiss, yet everything inside of me, all the hate and sadness, just melted away. There was only Hitomi. Nice, sweet, adorable, happy Hitomi. And she loved me. Of all the people in the world. Me.

Hitomi didn't seem at all surprised by our sudden kiss. She was even smiling against my lips. And after a few teasing butterfly kisses, she tucked her head into the crook of my neck. It was all so sudden, yet it felt so right. I hugged her fiercely against my body, as though if I pressed hard enough, she might melt into me. But I had to settle for the shear warmth of her body and the fresh, flowery scent of her hair. It had to take at least ten minutes of me holding her in this position for me to muster words.

"You probably have a lot of guys chase you. All of them better than me. I'm not good enough for you, social worker. You're one of my hated enemies. But . . ." I paused. It'd been so long since I'd uttered these words. "I . . . love you, too. More than anything."

Her arms tightened around me as we became locked in another kiss. I was a horrible kisser. "Hm . . . It's a shame I have school tomorrow," she whispered before kissing me again.

"Guess that means you want me to take you home?" I asked.

Hitomi gave me a sly grin that I'd never seen on her before. I kinda liked it. "Oh, it's not that I _want_ you to, it's that you _have_ to."

"Well, it's not that I _have_ to, it's just that I _should_."

She punched me lightly as she broke our embrace. "Argh, you're better than that. I thought you were ethical."

"Everyone breaks the rules every once in a while."

"You're so bad," Hitomi laughed. I laughed with her.

It didn't matter what time of day it was. It could be the middle of the hottest day of the year, or the middle of the coldest night. Nothing mattered. As long as I was with Hitomi.

**A/N: -dies- I finally finished! I'm so sorry! Okay, see, first, school got in the way. And then, second . . . this chapter turned out waaaaaay longer than I thought! (That's a good thing, right?) So yeah . . . This is kinda like my 'yes, no more school!' chapter. But alas, my summer is jam-packed. First, I have summer school, because I'm taking Health as an advanced placement course. And then, I actually have a job (amazing!). And _then_ I have a violin thing for the first three weeks for two hours. And then, after all those things are done, I have a goalie camp! I think then I get a week break . . . But I'm gonna have to do the required reading/essay writing in there too.**

**So that gives me August free, right? Well, to escape the pain, I'll try to write. I have to have gum surgery done on my lower front teeth. Apparently, they're gonna numb me up real nice and good, and then remove part of the gum from the roof of my mouth (isn't that just _dandy?_). Then, they're gonna sow that to my non-existent lower gum, so it'll start to grow. They said the roof of my mouth won't heal for about three weeks. And since it'll hurt and all, I won't want to eat too much, so I'll end up losing a few pounds. (Okay, that might not sound so bad to you, but I seriously don't have any pounds to lose! XX)**

**And then in six months to a year I have to have my wisdom teeth removed! Gah! **

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! (Where did my editor run off to!)**

**-Spirit0**

Review Replies-

**Carrie21:** Mission: Make Van Fall In Love is now complete! Hehe, thanks!

**C.G Forever is Now**: See, I was seriously gonna have Van kiss her last chapter. But I changed it at the last minute because I figured this chapter wouldn't have been this powerful then. I'm so happy I did! Hope you liked it.

**akai chou: **Glad you decided to read this fic! And it's okay, I never know what to say either. My reviews are just a bunch of nonsense . Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Strawberryz: **When you're with Van, you gotta be persistent! Otherwise, Hitomi would never get anywhere XD. Aw well, they definitely got somewhere this chapter. (Finally, right?) But I'm so sad; there are only five chapters left! -sigh- But I guess it has been awhile since I worked on it, so it doesn't feel like that short a time ago when I started this XD. Anyway, thanks for the review!

**Inda**: Of course he loosened up some more! The story wouldn't go anywhere if he didn't . Hope you liked all the looseness.

**Avelyn Lauren: **Hm, those are some good ideas. I seriously have a one track mind. I need other people to guide me down other paths, heh. But I think I made Hana like him just 'cause . . . That's how little kids are. They have, like, ESP or something on others feelings. It disappears once you get older and understand things. Darn, I really liked it when I was like Hana. -sigh- Growing up is so overrated. I will always have the mindset of a four year old. I'll try to have Van tell a story next chapter! Hope you can wait until then.

**Chisikami Saiyuki**: I'm glad you found this story too! Thanks for the review!

**Grrl N**: I hope this chapter answers, um . . . most of your questions! And yes, Van has occasional mood-swings . . . I didn't know what else to do with it. Er . . . there will be some more on Van's family in the next chapter as well. But after that, I think they pretty much drop off the face of the earth, heh. Like I said, hope that answered most of your questions.

**Annie**: No! Don't be jealous of me! I'm nothing! It takes me forever just to write a paragraph. I sit there and ponder it forever. (That's part of the reason it takes me so long to update). Oh, sorry, no update so soon. I hope this chapter makes up for it?

**Cherry Dragon**: Haha, I know, it's so dramatic, I can't take it! I can't believe I'm doing this. I usually hate all these drama-ish things. Oh well. I guess it turned out okay. Thanks for the review.

**Anime Monkey**: Hm, was this chapter 'cute'? I guess the end was cute. I'm still shaky with using the word cute. Hope you liked this chapter!

**Native Wolf Cub**: Oh, so now I'm cool? That's cool . I'm new to this first person point of view thing. But it's actually really fun. _I am Van, mwahaha_! Fun fun. Hope you liked this chapter.

**jossi-31: **Aw, I actually didn't come up with the stargazing idea. My best friend/editor came up with that one ('cause she didn't like my idea!). Oh well, I must admit, it worked out pretty well. Thanks for the review.

**Sakura onto Hitomi:** Pizza covers all the food groups? That's new to me . . . Perhaps if you subtracted all the grease, it would be good for you, haha. -ponders- I'm trying not to be too cliché. So, er, no, I don't think Folken will magically appear. But it as a consideration in the planning stage. You'll see :P. Hope you thought this chapter was cute too.

**Lady Luna**: Oh yeah, I thought about the therapy thing. Had to find a way around that one. Hitomi is his therapy! Guess this chapter answers your question (well, not in great detail, but you know, Van was only eight . . .). And look, lots of kissing-ness. Yay! Thanks for the review.

**dreamingofflyingaway: **Heh, I can't believe people think I write well in first person when this is my first time. But it is really really fun to be Van, haha (even my created depressing Van). This chapter almost made me cry. And I was the creator o.O Um . . . I think there's something wrong with that. And hey, I don't find school so bad. Unless it's just so ungodly boring. Then I just learn the stuff later. Hope you didn't mind the wait for this chapter either.

**no name: **Oops, guess I tortured you again. Sorry, it's not intentional! Hehe, and yes, I feel very honored. I luff reviews! Thanks a bunch.

**animelo: **The angst feeling, I feel it too, haha. Er . . . is angst even one of my genres? If it's not, I should really change that . And there's a plot? Just kidding . . . it's there somewhere. Um . . . I don't even fully understand where I'm taking it the next five chapters. But that's okay! I'll manage. Thanks for the review!

**water block: **Oh wow, if you thought last chapter was depressing, what did you think of this chapter o.O! But yes . . . college is a good thing. It really helps in this thing called life. I intend to go there one day in about three years from now -is only going into tenth grade-. Heh, anyway, always remember that school is cool! XD Thanks for the review!

**little fairy:** Happy happy, joy joy, they kissed! (Actually . . . they kissed a good amount o.O I must've been desperate XD) I'm not good with kissing scenes, though -has never really written one-. I hope it was okay -has to go hunt down editor-. Thanks for the review.

**reiniku: **Now do you feel bad for Van with reason? It's okay if you don't, seriously XD. Thanks for the review!

**kyoy**: Hehe, yes, a poncho is a sort of raincoat. I don't know why I just didn't write raincoat. Poncho just sounds cooler. And hey, wow, I actually write these lines! o.O I'm so horrible; I don't even remember! And yes, Allen should definitely die a slow, painful death. I hate him so much, gah! I have to add some random, funny thoughts of Van's. Otherwise, this story would be too angst (Oh crap, did I add any this chapter! XD) Anyways, hope you liked this chapter, and I should remember to thank Aya-chan.

**Sakura-Blossom-Cilla-85:** Thanks!

**ROTTENAPPLES: **Hope you waited veeeeeeery patiently. God, I just take forever. I don't even remember Easter anymore XD (no, for real, I don't remember what I did on Easter . . .) ANYWAY -nervous cough-, hope you liked this chapter as well .

**Kayorine**: I try to make my stories inventive like this . . . I don't like cliché things. They get boring after awhile, right? Hehe, thanks for the review!


	7. Family Matters

**AN: Oh gosh, don't kill me (I may be in a horrible hole, but I don't want to die!) So yeah, this school year sucks major #!#$#(. Ugh, stupid phase one teachers and their NON PREPERATION for honors! All the grades are weighted XX. I magically pulled straight A's out of my non-existent hat (not that that even MATTERS anymore!). And such a new marking period begins, and I have to do it ALL OVER AGAIN! (Only now, I already have a C in English, yay!)**

Last Stop

Chapter Seven: Family Matters

"It's Van!" Hana cried excitedly as Hitomi and I walked across the parking lot. Millerna and Dryden released the little girl's hand as they watched from the doorway, that _I-knew-this-would-happen-all-along-SUCKER_ smile spread across their faces. Normally, I would've been angry that they'd set me up _again_, and stalked off. But instead, I just smiled as I kneeled down to embrace Hana.

"Hana . . . I left you yesterday, didn't I?" I whispered into her ear as she latched her arms around my neck. "I'm sorry."

"Vaaaaaan," Hana said, pulling back to look me in the face. "Dryden said you were here when you were little. He told me about you. How come you never told me you were like me?"

There was a hurt look in her gray eyes as I searched for an answer. But there really was no answer, not that applied to Hana. She wouldn't have pitied me, or shied away from me; she would have understood. Yet when fear clutches you, it is hard to get out of its grasp. And perhaps understanding wasn't what I was looking for.

What I was looking for was love.

"Would you tell other people you were an orphan, Hana? Even if they themselves were orphans?" Hitomi asked gently, kneeling down as well. "I think you, of all people, can understand how Van feels."

"I guess . . ." Hana replied sadly. I smiled at her, an apologizing and forgiving smile, and suddenly her face lit up. "Did you two kiss and make up? Did you, did you?"

I had to avert my eyes, my cheeks flaring up, while Hitomi just chuckled. She seemed rather comfortable with our relationship already.

"Yes . . . With a kiss and everything," Hitomi said, resting her head against my shoulder. It was too hard to resist leaning into her hair, so I gave in without a second thought.

"Will you share him with me, Hitomi?" Hana asked shyly, with the innocence only children can pull off. Even I had to laugh.

"Of course," Hitomi whispered, kissing the young orphaned girls forehead lovingly. My hand stroked her hair lightly. We stayed that way for a few moments, in the middle of the parking lot, peacefully, until Hana asked a question that made the air grow heavy.

She looked me square in the eye as she said it, unfaltering, with a bit of plead. "So now you can adopt me, right?"

As soon as she said that, I couldn't breathe. All oxygen to my brain was cut off. I sat up straight, eyes widened and my mouth slightly agape. Even Hitomi seemed shattered by the question, for she too sat up straight and seemed unable to breathe. _Adopt me_. Those were the only words that my mind could comprehend. _Adopt me_. Was this what she'd wanted to happen all this time? Was that why she was so trusting of me? No . . . that couldn't be.

Hitomi and I looked at each other with uncertainty. There was nothing to be uncertain about, really. We simply couldn't adopt her. Too many things could happen between now and a year, now and a few months, now and a week, now and _tomorrow_ with Hitomi and I. That thought startled me even more. I shook it off, telling myself full well that that was the _least_ of our problems.

After what seemed like minutes, but was merely a few seconds, Hitomi looked away, staring at the pavement, as if ashamed. I turned back to face Hana, who already looked crestfallen, but still pleaded to me with her eyes. Those sad gray eyes that I couldn't resist. The ones that I had to resist. Certainly not because I wanted to; if I could've, I would've adopted Hana in a heartbeat. But I knew I couldn't give Hana what she needed, what she deserved.

"Hana . . ." I began, searching for an easy way to put it (as if there were such a thing). But suddenly the little girl began to sob gently, to herself, without seeking comfort from me.

"I understand . . ." she whispered quietly, turning to go back to the orphanage any child would loath with all their heart.

"_No!_" I exclaimed, grabbing her around the waist and hugging her small frame to my chest. "No," I whispered again, "you don't understand. You're too young to understand. We simply can't adopt you, Hana. Hitomi's still in school, and I work all day. When would we have time to be with you?"

"And we have little money," Hitomi added, stroking Hana's hair, as I could feel her warm tears through my shirt. "We wouldn't be able properly provide for you."

"_And_ we don't live together," I added hastily. "We could break up any day," I gave a shifty glance over at Hitomi, who gave me an expression saying _how could you even SUGGEST that?_ I smiled slightly, despite myself.

"But I don't want to be adopted by other people!" Hana cried, finally daring to look up at me. "I don't want to! I don't want to stay here! I want to be with you!"

I saddened greatly. "You don't always get what you want in life." I could've kicked myself for saying it, but it was true. I knew full well it was true.

"How come I never get what I want?" Hana asked so quietly that I barely heard her. "Am I bad? Am I being punished for being bad, Van? Is that why mommy and daddy went away? I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to be bad."

A choked sound came from beside me, and I knew Hitomi was crying. Hell, I was on the verge of crying. I couldn't find my voice. All I could manage was to hug her tighter. My heart was slowly being torn into a million pieces . Hana, sweet, nice, caring, innocent Hana, who'd done nothing wrong in the world . . .

Was the spitting image of me.

_Am I bad? Did I do something wrong?_

I managed to shake me head. "No. No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault, I swear," I choked, brushing away her tears with my thumb.

"Then why?"

How was I supposed to answer that? "It's just . . . There is no reason . . . It's how life works," again I couldn't come up with anything comforting, only able to tell the truth.

"I don't like life," she said sullenly.

"Don't say that," I crooned. "Just because I can't adopt you doesn't mean I don't love you. It would make me very sad if you thought that. And it would make me sadder if I didn't see you smile." I kissed her forehead lightly, her tears gradually subsiding.

"If I could have, Hana, I would have adopted you four months ago," Hitomi said, whipping the little girls face with a handkerchief. "I love you, Van loves you, Dryden loves you, and Millerna loves you. Please, don't be sad. We're right here."

I felt her arms tighten around my neck, but I felt no more tears wash my shirt. After a minute, Hitomi stood up, shaking out her legs (we'd been kneeling most of that time). I followed her lead, holding on to Hana as she still clung to my neck.

"Want a piggy back ride?" I asked, trying to bring the little girl back to her normal state. She nodded into my chest. I placed her on my shoulders carefully.

"Can I say something about what you said?" Hana asked just before we'd reached the entrance.

"I don't remember the last time you had to ask to say something," I joked.

"You guys will never break up," she stated flatly.

I wasn't even going to bother asking how she knew that.

oOo

Dryden's office was just as I remembered it, except it hadn't been Dryden's back then, of course. But apparently Meiden Fassa's son shared the same sense of style (or lack of) as he did. Perhaps the only thing that was different about the clutter-filled room was the picture of Millerna on the desk.

The manager sat in his chair, leaning back with that smug smile. I sat in the chair I'd sat in so many times before-- I distinctly remember creating the one hole that's in it. But why was Dryden calling a conference with me now? He didn't have control over my life anymore.

"You handled Hana rather well, Van," Dryden's voice pierced the silence as he twiddled with a pen in his hands. "Very caring of you."

I didn't know what to say.

"Been a day of emotional ups and downs, huh?" he continued, putting the pen down. The playful look that always sparkled in his eyes dissolved, and his expression became serious. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you down again."

I still said nothing. My muscles tightened. Dryden's chocolate eyes bore into mine, searching, searching for emotion, a sign that I was scared. But I wasn't scared. What could possibly hurt me now?

With a small snort, Dryden opened one of his many drawers, extracting a crinkled piece of paper. He handed it to me, and upon closer inspection, I saw it was a news paper clipping, dated around ten years ago. I scanned the first side, but it was obviously not what Dryden intended me to read, for it was cut off. Cautiously, I flipped it over, and my eyes widened involuntarily in shock.

There were four tiny pictures with a caption: _Late Sunday night on Route 31 North, a car lost control, and jumped the barrier into oncoming traffic. Four cars were involved in the crash, backing traffic up for miles. The three in the car that lost control, Goau, Varie, and Folken Fanel, were all pronounced dead at the scene, their bodies severed and burned beyond recognition. Five others were injured, one critically._

The pictures were of my mother, father, and brother, and what was supposed to be their car, but what merely looked like a burning piece of scrap metal.

I read the article over and over again, but it was all just a blur. I stared at the pictures. Of my father and mother, who looked older than I remembered them. Of my brother, who'd turned out to be a fine looking young man. He always had been, after all. They must have turned out okay without me to weigh them down.

And then they'd all died. Ten years ago.

"Why didn't you . . . Your father . . . Why didn't he tell me?" I asked quietly. "Why didn't _you_ tell me!" My voice rose angrily.

"Tell you? When you were fifteen? Even I could tell that would have been foolish," Dryden replied calmly.

"Didn't I have a right to know my family was dead? Didn't I at least deserve that liberty?" I asked coldly.

"You were unstable at fifteen, even more so than usual. Their death would have devastated you. I'm afraid . . ." He paused, his eyes shifting away from mine. "_My father_ was afraid you would've committed suicide."

My breath was momentarily taken away. Yes, when I was fifteen, it was my mini-suicidal period. Every teenager thinks about committing suicide at least once, right? But although my case was minor, it was still serious. Everything just seemed to finally get to me, to sink in. There was no one there for me. I wanted to fade away. But every time I would hold those scissors in my hands, sliding them ever so slowly against my wrists, an overwhelming fear consumed me. I could never penetrate deep enough to draw blood, only little scratches. Once they saw the cut marks, they sent me to see psychiatrists, not that they were helpful in any way.

No, the only reason I hadn't taken my own life was because I was too much of a damn coward to do so.

I chuckled sadly. "_You_ know I would've never done it."

Dryden tapped the pen he'd been playing with to his lips. "Perhaps you would've found the courage you needed. Perhaps that would have been your way of being reunited with your parents. To find your peace."

I'll admit I didn't think of that.

"Still . . . ten years, Dryden? Ten fucking years!" I cried.

He didn't flinch at my vulgar language. "It wasn't my decision. And you didn't want anything to do with me."

My fists shook with pent up rage. I wanted to break Dryden's pretty little nose. But I didn't lay a finger on him. Instead, I stared down at the newspaper article again. I felt shocked, but not all that sad.

"Where are they buried?" I asked suddenly, the thought just popping into my head.

Dryden didn't move, but his eyes hinted at surprise. "I'm not sure . . . I never thought to find out."

"Are you good for anything?" I snapped.

Dryden smirked. "No. I suppose I'm not."

I snorted, folding up the article and stuffing it into my pocket, then walking out without so much as a "bye".

oOo

Our ride home was quiet, perhaps out of mere exhaustion, or perhaps because everything just felt awkward now. But I enjoyed the silence, our silence, as I reveled in my mushed up thoughts.

As the school came in to sight, Hitomi spoke hesitantly. I hadn't said much to her about what'd happened in Dryden's office, but my feelings just radiated from me. "Um . . . May I ask you something?"

"Anything," I answered, not taking my eyes off the road.

There was another hesitation. "This may not be the right time to ask you this . . ."

As I put the car in park, I turned to look at her. She was blushing profusely, avoiding eye contact. This somehow lightened my mood, placing a tiny smile on my lips. I kissed her cheek lightly, whispering into her ear, "I said _anything_," before kissing her earlobe.

Hitomi giggled, turning slightly to catch my lips. "I suppose you did . . ."

"So? Ask me already, before I tickle it out of you. And someone could get hurt in a car," I said jokingly, giving her another teasing kiss.

She scolded me softly. "Van, stop it . . . I can't ask if you keep kissing me . . ."

I went against her wishes and gave her a real kiss this time. "Stop stalling . . . I'm giving you time in between . . ."

"Come with me to my parents' this weekend," she mumbled, as our lips brushed ever so slightly. They never got any closer, for I pulled back out of her reach, but still relatively close.

"What?" I asked in shock.

"I mean!" she continued hastily, blushing again. "If you have to work or you're not comfortable, you don't have to, I was just wondering!"

_Come. Parents. Weekend._ Those words stuck out in my mind as I gazed blankly at her red face. I should have seen this coming, shouldn't I? It's a standard thing in relationships, to meet the parents. To be scrutinized; to be rejected; to be approved; to be dissuaded. My heart began to race. I wasn't worthy of being Hitomi's boyfriend.

Oh, shut up self pity.

"V-van?" Hitomi stuttered, still completely embarrassed. "I'm s-sorry . . ."

The proximity practically closed between our lips, and I could feel her breath as she exhaled sharply. "Don't . . ." I whispered. "Don't you dare be sorry." I didn't kiss her.

"So you'll come with me?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course," I replied.

She smiled into my lips.

oOo

People walked on and off, talking loudly or sitting quietly, the train rolling steadily along. I hated trains with utmost passion. They were stuffy, noisy metal things on wheels. Kind of like my bus, only somehow, much worse (because it was _my bus_, perhaps?)

So why take the train? Because Hitomi wouldn't let me drive. Why? I have no idea. Why not fight it out with her, lose, then kidnap her and drive anyway? Because I'm a sucker for her, that's why. And such is why I ended up on a train.

It was seven in the morning. Hitomi leaned on my shoulder, resting, but not sleeping, as I hugged her closer with my hand around her waist. I was wide awake, staring at nothing in particular. An old man reading a newspaper. A business man checking his watch every thirty seconds. Hoodlums snickering in the corner about getting laid. And a young couple crooning over a baby.

I looked away.

"Van?" Hitomi asked, lifting her head from my shoulder to look at me.

"Hm?"

"I meant to ask you . . . What did Dryden want to talk about? You seemed upset,"Hitomi said.

I glanced around nervously, like anyone cared what we were talking about. "Nothing."

She stared at me for a moment, before sighing in exasperation. "Van . . . why do you always try to lie to me?"

"I'm not lying," I growled defensively.

"Yes, you are," Hitomi cut in.

I snorted. "It doesn't matter what he said."

"Yes, it obviously does, if you're _lying_ to me about it," she said, a bit of hurt in her voice. My shoulders slumped slightly and my eyes softened. I didn't like it when Hitomi was mad at me. I didn't like it when we glared at each other. Stupid me for trying to cover things up. . . .

I kissed her on the cheek, whispering an "I'm sorry" as I pulled away. We sat in silence for a minute, as I contemplated what to say. Was there any way I could word it with an 'I don't care' attitude? 'Oh yeah, Dryden, he just decided to tell me that my parents died ten years ago. No big deal.' As if Hitomi'd ever believe that. But I really didn't want her freaking out on a _train_.

"It was just a little chat about my parents," I said calmly.

There were a million ways you could take that sentence, and as I gazed at Hitomi, she was obviously pondering which I meant.

"And?" she asked tentatively.

Unconsciously, I pulled her closer. Something inside me wanted her comfort. "And . . . they're dead. They've been dead for the past ten years. All three of them. In a car crash."

Somehow, telling this to Hitomi, on a train with a bunch of random people who didn't give a damn, hurt a lot more than the night before. Warm tears formed in the corners of my eyes. But I refused to cry.

Hitomi leaned against my shoulder again. "I'm sorry, Van . . ."

"Let's . . . let's talk about something else," I whispered quietly.

She nodded into my chest. "If that's what you want."

We sat in silence for a little while, lost in our own little world, cut off yet somehow still strongly connected to each other. I wanted to say something. Something I'd been thinking about for the past couple weeks. For some reason, it was taking a lot more courage than expected.

"I want to start writing again. Maybe . . . not fiction right away. I took journalism too. It would be a good way to start again . . ."

Hitomi smiled brightly at me. "That's great, Van!"

I paused. "Are you sure?"

"You love to write, don't you?"

When I was little, I remember how writing used to be a relief for me. I always felt the slightest bit happier after venting out my anger on a piece of paper. But this writing wouldn't be about anger, would it? No. Now I had more of an abundance of feelings to unleash. Remorse. Anger. Love. Hate. Sadness. Happiness. My life was on a roller-coaster ride of these emotions. In my view, the greatest stories were based on something real, yet something not everyone can, or wants, to feel in their lifetime.

"You filled this void within my heart, Hitomi, but I feel as if there's still something missing," I said. Our eyes locked. "I really want to write."

"Then do it," she replied in that cheerful tone I loved so much. "I'll be here for you."

"Thank you," I said quietly, a huge grin on my face.

The next stop was announced.

"Our stop is next," Hitomi said, unable to mask her growing excitement as she squeezed my hand.

I had this queasy feeling.

oOo

Hitomi practically leaped off the train when it stopped, as I grabbed our two bags and walked behind her. The Kanzaki's were only a little ways off, waving frantically when they spotted us. Hitomi ran straight into the arms of her mother, a women in her mid-fifties, slightly shorter than her daughter, with brown hair and green eyes. Hitomi's father was about the same height as me, with light brown hair and gray eyes. Her brother, who looked like the typical teenage heartthrob, was in between the height of his sister and father, with blondish hair and cold, yet somehow playful, blue eyes. Yes, he'd definitely fit in with those other "musicians".

I stood off to the side, feeling awkward and out of place, as Hitomi gave each of them hugs and greetings. Then she turned to me, smiling, as I stood still in uncertainty.

Eventually, she dragged me by the shoulder, scolding me about being shy.

"So, this must be the Van we've heard so much about," Hitomi's father laughed, presenting an outstretched hand.

Holding both bags in one hand, I shook his with the other. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kanzaki."

"You don't have to be so formal," Mr. Kanzaki replied in good-nature. "You can just call me . . . dad."

"_Dad_," Hitomi cried in almost the same exasperated voice she always gave me, a slight blush adorning her cheeks.

"What?" Mr. Kanzaki shrugged. "Fine, fine. He can call me Sadato, if he wants."

"Thank you, Mr. Kanzaki," I answered politely.

"It's nice to meet you, Van," Hitomi's mother said quietly, with a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm Anna, Hitomi's mother."

I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "No, no, the pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Kanzaki." It was like one of those cheesy conversations out of some horribly written romance novel.

Next in line was her brother, who was busy staring at a bunch of girls out of the corner of his eye. "Yo, I'm Mamoru, Hitomi's bro, nice to meet you," he said in a rush, with that _I-know-I'm-super-cool_ type voice. I could see why Hitomi would find him super-annoying, after all. But maybe he was super-cool, too.

"It's nice to meet you, too," I said, ready to explode if someone didn't take the attention away from me.

"So, now, let's be going," Mr. Kanzaki said cheerfully. "Van, hand over those bags!"

"It's okay, I've got them, Mr. Kanzaki," I said.

Mr. Kanzaki frowned. "Son, you better give me those bags or I'll take them from you forcefully."

I was so confused. No, really, I was in a daze. Wasn't it rude to let him carry the bags? Or, was it rude of the host to let me carry the bags? Wasn't I supposed to making a good impression here? Wasn't it good for me to carry the bags? _Wasn't it!_

Hitomi nudged me, whispering, "You better just give him the bags, or he'll flip out right here in the middle of the train station."

I stood bewildered for a few seconds, before holding out our luggage, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Kanzaki."

"_And stop calling me Mr. Kanzaki; you make me feel old!"_

Such was my first meeting with Hitomi's parents.

oOo

The rest of the day was an introductory period; in other words, there were more questions asked than on an SAT, and unfortunately, some were harder to answer. _How old are you? Where are you from? What are your hobbies? Where did you go to college? What do you do for a living? _Those were the easier ones. Although, saying 'bus driver' as my career wasn't the greatest thing in the world. But Hitomi was right there to defend me, explaining how I wanted to be a writer and all that good stuff. They still seemed skeptical, but at least I had a plan, right?

Of course, the harder questions were those surrounding my parents. It was so tiresome to fill people in on the backdrop story of my life. Ever since I'd met Hitomi, I felt as if _that_ was where my life should be begin. That was when I went through my greatest turn around, but also some of the toughest challenges. I thought of all the emotions I'd been through because of her. I stared at my knuckles, at the pink flesh that was left behind. I thought of the way her lips always left me gasping for more.

Life wouldn't be worth living if you didn't have hardships, if you never cried, if you never felt emotional pain; but is it worth living if you're never happy? Life should be balanced between the two, but mine never was, not until Hitomi. Could I call it life, then? I wonder. But it didn't change the fact that I had to tell the same story anyway, and receive the same sympathy, and feel the same pain.

Time does not heal all, it only represses the pain.

Dinner, however, was interesting. For once, I got to hear things about Hitomi, and not myself. Most of the stories were about how big of a klutz she was, and throughly embarrassed her, but they made me laugh. Others were about how she'd always helped those less fortunate than herself. And others still were about her and her failure with the opposite sex. She just didn't click with males, seeing as how she was kind of . . . out there (not that I minded). Mamoru congratulated her on finally picking a "hot one".

And in this short time period, I realized how little I actually knew about the Hitomi I called mine.

The light from the television was the only thing illuminating the room. It was eleven thirty at night, and we'd all just gone to bed. I was sleeping downstairs, on their pull out couch. It was the only thing they had to offer, but I didn't mind. It was peaceful down there, for I had the tv on mute, and cozy. It was neither hot nor cold. I didn't even have to wear a shirt.

The steps leading upstairs creaked, and I spun my head around. There, enhanced by the light, stood Hitomi, adorned in but a mere white, short-sleeved, knee length nightgown. I blushed, despite myself, as she came towards me.

"H-Hitomi, what are you . . ?" I began, but she silenced me with the tips of her fingers, and slid gently under the covers with me.

"I thought you might be lonely down here," Hitomi whispered, facing me as she rested her head on her arm.

"I sleep by myself, in my lonely apartment, all the time," I said quietly.

She stared at me, a coy, yet somewhat sad smile crossing her lips. "Then I guess I'm the one who's lonely."

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pulled her closer to me, until her face rested only a few centimeters from mine. I kissed her forehead softly. "I wouldn't want you to be lonely. But why are you so sad?"

"I'm not sad," Hitomi sighed into her pillow. I waited a few moments for an elaboration, but none came. Even as she caressed the nape of my neck, her gaze was elsewhere. My insides twisted in confusion and utter helplessness, for I'd never seen Hitomi in this state before. A sudden impulse took over, as I wanted to make her happy, as I wanted to make all her thoughts melt away . . .

As I kissed her supple lips more profoundly than ever before. Maybe I was desperate, maybe I was crazy, hell, maybe I was just too damn tired to think straight, but I kissed her with utmost passion, sliding my tongue cautiously into her mouth. It was yet another step in our relationship. There had to be something that separated lovers from friends, sex from making love. To be in love requires not only the chemistry you'd find in a friend, but a certain level of sexual desire. I loved Hitomi for everything; her kindness, gentleness, caring nature, radiant smile, understanding yet not understanding ways, unaesthetic, yet beautiful, body, _everything_, and I was finally letting her know it.

Her response was that of surprise, shyness, and . . . longing? Desire? I couldn't tell, my mind was that mushed. But I didn't want it to end so soon, as she moaned when I released her from my deadly grip, leaving gentle butterfly kisses behind. She snuggled closer to me, burying her face in the crook of my neck. I caressed her hair with the tips of my fingers. Our breath labored slightly, and heat surged into my cheeks as the moment caught up with me. Yet still I hugged Hitomi ever closer to me.

"It's okay to be sad . . . every once in a while," I murmured.

Hitomi shook her head. "I said, I'm not sad," she whispered into my skin, sending chills throughout my body. I felt her smile into my neck, leaving a light kiss. "Especially . . . not after that."

A whirlpool of thoughts about dinner again pounded through my mind, and my smile faded. I didn't know anything about this girl snuggled peacefully against me, keeping me warm, allowing me to take strength from her. What _was_ her favorite color? Who were her best friends? What was her favorite book? Favorite band? Movie? Flower? Had she not just been sad, distressed, dependent upon me, despite her denial; or perhaps I wanted her to depend on me, just this once?

"What's your favorite color?" I asked.

Hitomi giggled, but exhaustion was evident. "You're so random when you're tired."

"I really want to know."

There was a silence, and I thought Hitomi had fallen asleep. "I don't have a favorite color; I like them all."

"Even black?"

"Even black."

"What's your favorite book, then? Surely you must have a favorite book."

"_Van,_ what's with you all-of-the-sudden?" Hitomi asked, concern, frustration, and exasperation poorly hidden in her voice.

"I'm thinking about how much I don't know you," I whispered.

Hitomi lifted her head off my chest and loomed over me, perhaps but a mere centimeter or two away, and her sparkling green eyes captivated me. We stared at each other like this for a few moments, until Hitomi started to giggle and captured my lips, and continued to laugh even as she released them.

"You're so, so silly," she said tenuously, placing a hand on my chest as she sunk back into her pillow. "You know me better than anyone . . ."

"I love you," I murmured, watching her nod off to sleep.

"I love you, too," came her muffled reply. "And A Walk to Remember."

"Huh?"

"A Walk to Remember . . . by Nicholas Sparks . . . is my favorite book . . ."

I smiled and turned off the television, but I didn't fall asleep. The moon cast a faint glow, basking my Hitomi in light, reflecting serenely off her skin. And I stared at her, watched her sleep, my arms loosely around her waist, her hand resting softly across my heart, breath shallow, hair tousled, features untroubled. A Walk to Remember, huh? I remembered reading that book; don't ask me _why _I read it, I just did, back when I was twenty. Despite the fact that it mentioned _orphans _quite a bit, I suffered through, and actually felt pretty touched by the end. Thinking, Hitomi reminded me of the girl . . . Jamie, was it? Sure, maybe Hitomi wasn't some crazy Christian who ostracized herself from others, helped wounded critters, and had a terminal illness, but you know, they were both really nice, perhaps misunderstood, and helped orphans (how many people can honestly say they help orphans?). My sleepy mind began contemplating what the younger Hitomi was like. Basically, I came up with something similar to what she had grown to be, only with childish innocence . . . and a hopeless romantic.

I continued fantasizing for another two hours.

_Light will creep in soon_

_And I still haven't slept a wink._

_I wish the sun would hide its head,_

_So I could watch you dream some more._

_I wanna watch you dream some more._

_I wanna watch you._

oOo

I woke up at six AM in a confused state. Damn internal clock. I was used to running on about eight hours of sleep. What reason did I usually have to stay up late? Except for the occasional long outing with Hitomi, I went to bed at ten to ten thirty. I was really tired, but couldn't fall back asleep. Surprisingly, Hitomi woke up soon after.

"'Morning, love," I said gently as Hitomi rubbed her groggy eyes. She looked so cute. Her hair was a complete mess, and I longed to tame it with my fingers. She seemed just about as tired and confused as I was. Sitting up, she gave me a sidelong glance, smoothing out her nightgown. Her very wrinkly, very light, very revealing nightgown.

Bad hormones, _very bad hormones._

"Good morning, Van," Hitomi sighed, smiling haphazardly, snuggling back into her pillow. I smiled back, shifting closer, fulfilling my wish of fixing her hair . . . or maybe I was just messing it up some more.

"Go back to sleep," I said, kissing her ear lightly. She shook her head.

"No, my parents will wake up soon. We should just wake up and get ready." Even as Hitomi said it, I knew she didn't want to get up. Still, she pushed me away playfully, getting out of bed, a fiery blush illuminating her cheeks. "And . . . I don't think they'd approve of our . . . position."

I shared in her blush as I recalled that I was shirtless with flimsy pajama pants on. Guess Hitomi was doing to me exactly what I was doing to her. For some reason, that made me feel good.

"I agree."

We got ready in the next twenty minutes, and sure enough, not long after Hitomi came downstairs and kissed me soundly, her parents awoke. By six forty, they came strolling downstairs, eying me closely as Hitomi and I watched television. They kind of freaked me out, especially her father, who was staring directly at the hand I had placed around his daughters waist. I wanted to wrench it away, move to the other end of the couch, and sulk as if I'd done something wrong. Hitomi, sensing my tension, turned and scolded her father with her eyes.

I relaxed as she turned back to me with a smile, kissing me softly on the cheek. "He doesn't mean it," she whispered before standing up to help her mother cook breakfast. "Are we waiting for Mamoru?" she asked.

"Oh, that bum, he won't wake up for at least another two hours," Mr. Kanzaki replied, flipping through the newspaper absentmindedly.

"Who you callin' a bum?" Mamoru hissed icily, stepping gracefully down the stairs, despite the fact that he only wore boxers and a muscle shirt. And, oh no, his hair was all out of place.

"Good morning, brother," Hitomi said cheerfully, turning on the stove and buttering a pan.

He gave a nod of acknowledgment, "Morn, sis."

I was seriously beginning to wonder what type of songs this guy wrote.

"Why are you up so early?" Mrs. Kanzaki asked.

"No reason," Mamoru replied casually, but I caught his eyes flicker in my direction. God, between her father and brother, could I possibly be the only guy in Hitomi's life?

oOo

Let's just say breakfast was . . . interesting.

It started off like any other breakfast. First, it was cooked, then, we started to eat it. Magic, I tell you, magic. It was nothing big, just some eggs, and bacon, and toast, and coffee. Yeah, there might have been some other stuff, but that's beside the point.

I was sitting across from Hitomi, who was as cheerful as ever. But I noticed her glance at the clock once every few minutes, and when she caught me staring skeptically, she'd smile. I found this behavior strange, as if she were waiting for something to happen. Still, I dismissed it and went on chatting with her family.

Hitomi was the first to finish, excusing herself, placing her plate in the sink and pouring a glass of water. I quickly finished the few remaining eggs on my plate and excused myself as well. When I reached the sink, Hitomi held a small, oval shaped pill in her hand. I immediately assumed that she didn't feel well.

Maybe she had a terminal illness after all.

"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.

An awkward silence consumed the room. My mind began to fret that she _really really DID_ have a terminal illness and she just hadn't gotten around to telling me yet. But as soon as her brother began to snicker slightly and Hitomi to blush, I knew there was something much more . . . let's say "innocent" going on. And it obviously wasn't a cold.

"You mean you haven't told him?" Mamoru jabbed. "And you thought you could hide it this weekend?"

"I . . . no," Hitomi replied lamely.

"Perhaps you should take Van to your room and have a nice discussion," Sadato Kanzaki said, turning the page of his newspaper.

"Yes . . ." Hitomi replied, taking my hand and leading me up the stairs to her room, but only after she'd taken the pill.

Since there was barely anything in her room, a bed, dresser, shelves, and a few things she'd left behind from college, it was spacious. I could almost see why Hitomi had come to crawl into bed with me last night. She was probably used to a crowded area, and a roommate. Somehow, this didn't make me feel pleased. I wanted Hitomi to sleep with me because it was _me_, not because her room felt eerie and foreign.

After closing the door, Hitomi sat me down on her perfectly-made bed. She sat next to me, leaving a bit of distance between us, yet still holding my hand. I still couldn't fathom what she was going to tell me.

I should have guessed.

"Promise you won't yell?" Hitomi began.

"Why would I yell?" I asked stupidly.

"_Van."_

"Okay, okay, I promise."

She took a deep breath and looked me right in the eye. "I take birth control pills."

Okay, so initially, I was shocked, and perhaps a little offended. I didn't really see a reason for her to be on birth control, unless she was hiding the fact that she'd been in a sexual relationship before me. Up until then, I'd assumed we were both virgins. Or maybe she just didn't trust me? I'll admit, I had been pretty aroused the night before, but I would never take advantage of Hitomi like that. Ever.

I gave her a mischievous smile. "So, this is your big secret?"

"Don't be offended," she replied quickly. "It's not because I don't trust you."

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Why, then?"

"Well . . ." She trailed off, glancing towards the door, as if wanting to escape. I squeezed her hand gently, even though this conversation was a bit awkward. "I . . . It's my cycle. It's always been irregular. My doctor recommended these birth control pills, but I never started until a few years ago."

I'd never really heard of a girl taking birth control pills to stabilize their period, but then again, I wasn't a girl, and I didn't have these . . . problems. It's not something we discussed in health class, either. Or maybe we did, I wouldn't know, it's not like I payed much attention in that class. In my current situation, I was regretting that decision.

"I understand," I said with a smile, pulling her gently closer to me. "There was no reason to make this such a big deal."

Hitomi leaned against my shoulder. "I'd be lying if I said it had nothing to do with you, though . . ."

"Oh?" I mumbled, hugging her closer to me. "And why is that?" I asked, slipping a finger under her chin and making her face me.

"Because you're really hot," she whispered, playfully trapping my lips in hers.

oOo

Needless to say, I actually enjoyed my stay at Hitomi's house. And I don't think her parents minded me so much either. Her family may have been weird, but who was I to talk?

"Now, Van, you better take care of my daughter," Mr. Kanzaki laughed as we shook hands good bye at the train station.

"I will, Mr--" He gave me one of those looks, "Dad." I finished. _Dad_. That word felt really awkward.

"When will you be visiting next, sweetheart?" Anna Kanzaki asked, a touch of sadness in her voice.

"Christmas time," Hitomi assured. "And I'm sure Van will come, too." She looked at me and smiled. Any doubts I had about us breaking up between then and Christmas were washed away.

"Of course."

**AN: Well now, because of the new review reply feature, this section obviously becomes a lot shorter. I kinda like that feature, only, now I can't reply to those of you who review anonymously (unless, of course, you leave your email). **

**Anyways, why did it take so long, right? Lots of reasons! You have to admit, this chapter was pretty long . . . by my standards. School started, and I really regret taking six majors, three minors, and having to take that stupid biology lab, which means I have study hall occasionally too. Plus, I moved up in my social studies and English classes, so now the work level is totally different. My mom is going to back to school, too, so she and I have to share the computer (and she conveniently gets on at my prime times for writing). And I was stupid and tried playing field hockey on top of playing on two ice hockey teams. AND I'm not very efficient with my time. Hence the late update. **

**Blah, I hope nothing bad has happened to any of you, what with all this crazy weather happening around the world! And I hope you didn't think something bad happened to me XD. (Happy belated Thanksgiving to those that it applies!)**

**Only four more chapters -cries-. You guys should love the next one, whenever the hell I write it.**

**-Spirit0**


	8. The Ultimate Fairytale

Last Stop

**AN: Well, I didn't really intend on writing this right now (bet you didn't want to hear that . . .) but I seem to have a major case of writers block (which doesn't occur often). It's not that I don't have anything to write (quite the contrary), it's just that I don't like anything that I'm writing right now. But LS has a tendency to just flow from my fingertips (I just never have much time to let it do so). Maybe it's because I love this first person thing. I dunno. But yeah . . . I work well when I am Van, haha (even if he makes me cry, wah. Who's controlling whom here?)**

Chapter Eight: The Ultimate Fairytale

Late fall had set in, the air becoming increasingly crisp. Less people ventured out to shop, which meant less people rode the bus. Of course, nothing stopped Hitomi from coming, whether it be lightning, sleet, a blizzard, you catch the drift. I even wondered if sickness would stop her, but I supposed it would, only because she wouldn't want to infect others. The thought made me smile, although it felt like someone had tied my intestines in a knot. For today, I knew Hitomi wouldn't be waiting out in the cold alone.

Today, her friends were coming along.

All day I'd been thinking about it, though I tried not to. I knew this was something to be expected, something normal couples did, something that was inevitable, but it scared me half to death, for I remained highly anti-social. Not only that, but this meeting seemed important to Hitomi (with good reason). She'd seemed a bit off-center herself when asking me to meet them. Her words and mannerisms replayed in my mind.

We'd gone on a walk that evening, since Hitomi insisted that I needed more fresh air (you mean bus fumes _aren't_ good for you?). We didn't talk as we walked along. My mind wandered over various things, some of which were pretty heavy. To stop myself from thinking too hard and being irrational, I focused on how nice Hitomi's hand felt clasped in mine. Yeah, it's cheesy, I know, but I still reveled in the little gestures she sent me. Her voice, low and uncertain, snapped me out of my half-daze.

_"I want you to meet my friends," Hitomi said quietly, never looking at me, keeping her eyes focused on the path before us._

_"When?" I asked, surprised._

_"On Monday. They'll come to the orphanage on Monday," she assured. _

_"Okay . . ." I replied, confused as to why she would choose to have them come to the orphanage over something more . . . fun._

_"They're really nice," she continued._

_"Not half as nice as you," I offered, kissing her temple, trying to brush off the mood._

_"_Van_," she whined, "I'm being serious. I want my friends to like you."_

_I stopped walking then, clutching Hitomi's hand tightly and spinning her around to face me. The moonlight reflected in her sea-green eyes, and her face seemed unnaturally pale, granting her the most fierce look I'd ever seen her have. If I had pointy ears like a wolf, I would have pressed them down against my head in that pathetic way dogs do. I felt like a child being scolded, but I didn't know exactly what for. _

_"I thought couples go on double dates or family outings or hang out or whatever when they want to meet friends." It definitely wasn't a question._

_"I thought you'd be uncomfortable with things like that," Hitomi pleaded. _

_My eyes narrowed. "You didn't even ask me."_

_Hitomi took my other hand, stepping closer, looking up directly into my eyes. It was her way of challenging me. "Would you have said yes if I'd suggested something like that?"_

_I pondered that for a second before scowling, "That's not the point."_

_"So you wouldn't have, would you?" she pressed, our gazes never breaking._

_"That's not the point," I repeated, unwilling to let her beat me again. It was awkward, standing in the middle of the park path, clasping both hands, glaring at each other. I couldn't explain my own anger, even to myself. But I knew _I _wouldn't feel sorry this time. Not this time._

_ She kissed my cheek lightly. "I'm sorry, okay . . . ?" _

_"We seem to say 'I'm sorry' a lot," I whispered, clutching her hands more tightly._

_"I know," she whispered back. "But I am."_

She knew she didn't have to ask me. She already knew my answer, because yes, I wouldn't have agreed to meet her friends under any other circumstance. The realization made me want to hang my head in shame. But the fact that she already knew exactly what I would say, how I would react . . . somehow comforted me. It proved how much she loved me.

Was I really that simple-minded?

oOo

My heart pounded as the five of them-- Hitomi trailing behind her four friends-- made their way to the front seats. She'd never specified to how many friends would be coming along; I guess I just assumed she meant two. And now, four came strutting down the aisle, intent on reaching the front seats to get a better view of me. The first in line-- a guy about my age-- had shoulder-length brown hair, darker than Hitomi's, with brown eyes. He wore a sort of beige color dress shirt with a red tie and black pants; I took this to be some sort of uniform (like, an old, prestigious high school uniform, perhaps?). He seemed to hold himself very confidently; his whole aura made me feel inferior.

I knew I had to make a good impression, but how? I just then began to devise a plan. Only, all I drew from my non-existent brain was a blank. My eyes began to dance around in a frenzy, when suddenly, the most embarrassing and foolish plan came to me.

I'd never used the radio before; there was no reason to do so. But besides that, I'd never even used my intercom (I'm sure most bus drivers do that occasionally, right?). Actually, staring at the bus panel, I'd never had to use much of any of these buttons. Now, as Hitomi's friends sat down, I caught Hitomi's soft smile in the mirror-- as if she were saying _it'll be okay . . . but don't screw this up, or I'll kill you._

So I decided to use the intercom microphone thing-a-ma-bob to introduce myself, even though they were basically sitting across from me.

Picking up the tan communicator (the cord was a bit tangled), I stared at it for a moment, hesitant, wondering if I should really do this. I couldn't think of any other way to make a good first impression, so as I began to drive once again, I pressed down the release button.

"Well . . . this is different," I began like a total doofus, "It's not every day _five_ people suffer my lonesome company to my last stop. I'm sorry if you find me dull . . .Anyway, I'm Van Fanel, your bus driver; but I suppose that's just a trivial fact compared to my being Hitomi's boyfriend. I'm humbled to make your acquaintance, and if I could pass you the intercom, I would."

I think that's one of the longest passages I've ever said at one time. And look, I made a complete ass of myself. As I glanced in the mirror again, Hitomi smiled. I couldn't tell if it was a _nice job, funny guy_ smile or an _I am _SO_ going to kill you later_ one.

One guy just outright laughed-- but trust me, I was laughing with him. The intimidating one laughed, too. The girls just smiled.

Creating laughter isn't such a bad first impression, I guess.

"How cute!" a girl with a dark-purplish looking hair and energized brown eyes exclaimed. She looked at Hitomi, who happened to be sitting to the left, and gave her a devilish grin. "Hitomi, I think I'm jealous. You never told us how good-looking he is!"

Hitomi shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I have. You just never listen to me because you're too busy thinking about Amano."

"Yukari talks about me that much?" Mr. Intimidating-- or Amano, I suppose I must now call him-- asked with a faint smile.

"Of course. It's Yukari we're talking about," Hitomi replied.

"I do _not_ talk about him that much," Ms. Purplish Hair (Yukari) hissed.

"_ANYWAY_," the albino guy with blood-red, scary-looking eyes and a twisted smile said icily. If Amano was Mr. Intimidating, then this guy was Mr. Scary. His clothes were mostly black, except for a smidgen of red, and his pants were clipped with chains and all that good goth stuff. I've got nothing against goth people, honestly-- they're just scary looking. Isn't that what they want to be, anyway?

"Hiya Vanny-boy," he began. "The name's Dilandau, and this here's Merle." Merle-- a girl with blaring pink hair and green eyes-- waved enthusiastically into the mirror and said hello.

"Don't you wish Amano and them would just shut up?" Dilandau sneered.

"Uh . . ." I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. I could only think of how Dilandau called me "Vanny boy," and how it felt so awkward.

My first impression of Hitomi's friends- were they really her friends? They seemed too rambunctious, too childish, too typical of modern society. They're all talkative weirdos. But at least they seemed like nice weirdos.

oOo

Hitomi stopped next to me as her friends waited in the parking lot. Apparently, the plan was that I would take Hitomi home, and her friends would take the late bus. Personally, I wouldn't trust the late bus in this neighborhood; but hey, that's just me, what do I know?

"Are you okay?" she asked, that concerned look etched on her face.

"I'm just peachy," I said casually.

She gave me such a genuine smile, I couldn't resist teasing her.

"You act like I'm five or something. Can I go now?"

Instead of answering, she kissed my cheek lightly, whispered "I love you," and scampered down the stairs.

oOo

I never got to see Hitomi's friends initial reactions upon walking into the orphanage, but by the time I'd returned, they all seemed squeamishly comfortable. Yukari and Merle sat with the girls, talking and making jokes. Dilandau played monkey-in-the-middle with a group of kids (mostly boys). He made fake throwing movements and taunted the children to incite their anger, which simply made him laugh and throw to someone in the middle. Amano stood off to the side reprimanding Dilandau, telling him to stop messing around. I didn't see Hitomi or Hana, so I walked over to them.

"Vanny boy, want to play?" Dilandau asked. "I'll never let you get the ball," he sneered.

"It's just a game, Dilandau," Amano said. "Be nice and let Van get the ball sometime."

"As if," Dilandau snorted. "Come on, Vanny boy, you're holding up the game. Will you play or not?"

Although both were challenging me, indirectly calling me a loser in predicting that I could never get the ball, which peeved me and denounced my manliness, I declined. They probably thought I was a pansy or something, but I didn't really care (and I _know_ I damn well could've gotten the ball). Instead, I asked, "Where's Hitomi?"

The last thing I saw before two tiny hands covered my eyes were Dilandau and Amano smiling.

"Guess who, guess who!" a little girls' voice exclaimed wildly.

"I wonder," I said with a smile. "Who could it possibly be?"

The girl giggled.

"Could it be little Hana, whom I've been looking for? And perhaps Hitomi's with her?" I asked innocently. The hands lifted from my vision.

"Van, you're no fun," Hitomi pouted as she put Hana down on the floor, if only so she could run over to me instead.

"Yeah, Vanny boy, you're no fun," Dilandau chimed in.

For _some_ reason, I didn't like being called "no fun" by my girlfriend and her bad ass friend. Even though I knew I _was_ no fun, I still had to make a good impression, and Hitomi wasn't helping. So I decided I would play Dilandau's little game. If Hana played with me, that is.

"Want to play monkey-in-the-middle with Hitomi's friend, Dilly?" I asked.

"Okay!" Hana exclaimed. She seemed to be in a very good mood. And only I knew why.

"Dude, did you just call me _Dilly?_"

"Yeah, man," I replied, taking up my place in the middle, staring down my opponent. "You got a problem with that?"

oOo

After a half-hour of monkey-in-the-middle (in which I snagged the ball from Dilandau at least ten times) everyone settled down for story time. I'll admit, I loved story time. Hana always snuggled in my lap, making me feel protective and possessive, as if she were indeed my daughter. And then, to listen to Hitomi's voice, it made my heart leap; if I fell into a deep enough trance, making all the children in the room disappear, it felt like Hitomi was reading just to Hana. Like one happy family.

But instead, we sat on an orphanage floor, surrounded by twenty-some young children, with Dilandau, Amano, Yukari, and Merle looking somewhat bored.

That is, of course, until Hitomi finished reading, and Yukari came up with a bright idea.

"Hey Van, why don't you tell a story?" she quipped. "Hitomi tells me you're a writer."

Just the thought made me fidget. Tell a children's story? Off the top of my head? I gave Hitomi a _how could you? _glance, for I felt a bit betrayed. True, I told her I was a writer. True, I was going to start a part time journalism job. True, I'd changed my sad ways. But still. Hitomi'd never read a single thing I'd written. But could I really say no to Yukari's request? Looking back, I suppose I could have; and yet I didn't.

"Sure," I answered, hesitantly. "What sort of story do you want to hear . . . ?"

Most of the children shouted out, including Hana, and of course, all the ideas were fantasy ridden, cliched stories. I decided to tell a story with a princess, dragon, and prince, as corny as that sounds.

"Once upon a time," I began, in the way one must begin all children's fantasy stories, "there lived a prince. The prince's father, well, he was a great man, with a lovely wife and huge kingdom, and a skilled fighter. Yet the king only had one son, the prince. And the prince was nothing like his father; the prince, although handsome, was cowardly. Other princes' from faraway lands made fun of him. And so, his father sent him on a quest.

"The prince had to slay a dragon in order to fulfill his rite to become king. Like the coward that he was, the prince complained, tried to dodge out of his task. But the king would not allow such a thing. He would not let his son bring such dishonor to the royal blood line.

"And so, the king sent his son into the valley where dragons reigned. Clumsily, the prince walked along, clad in shining armor that made it difficult for him to move. He could barely lift his sword, much less take down a dragon with it. The heart inside him pounded in fear. What was he to do? He decided to pick the smallest dragon to fight and kill.

"For once in his life, the prince had a stroke of luck. Outside the dragons dark cave, a young dragon sat lazily, picking at a carcass. The dragon looked rather tired. An easy . . . well, not an easy, but an _easier_ kill than the prince could have hoped for. Sneaking up behind the beast, the prince crouched, poised to strike. But suddenly, a voice stopped him.

"'Why do you desire to slay the dragon?'

"The prince turned to see a girl, no older than himself, wearing a lovely dress made of the richest silk. The sight of this girl, obviously a princess, made the prince freeze in his tracks. He gave her a hard, curious look, taking in her features-- shoulder length, light brown hair, with piercing green eyes, and a tender look about her," I glanced at Hitomi as I said this, only to see her looking away with red-tinted cheeks.

"Regardless, the prince replied, 'I must prove my worthiness.'

"'In what?' the princess asked curiously, looking amused.

"'Everyone says I am cowardly,' the prince confessed.

"'Everyone?' the princess asked. 'I do not believe killing a dragon makes you any less cowardly. I believe standing up to those who say you are cowardly is courageous.' The princess came closer to the prince. 'And I do not believe you to be a coward.'

"'I will never be wed and have children, for no one will respect me,' the prince said.

"'I am positive that is untrue.'

"The princess' words deeply touched the prince. He did not slay the dragon, and instead went back to his kingdom, where his father screamed and hollered. But the prince just stood quietly, and when his father finished, the prince simply said, 'I am not a coward. I simply do not have skills with a sword.'

"The king didn't care. He went on and on about how his son would never marry. A year went by, and the prince's life did not change. Everyone still believed him a coward. But he no longer cared what they said, and kept on insisting he was not a coward. He was no longer ashamed. And, after another year, someone came along and became his wife.'

"The prince from then on resided in the princess' kingdom as her husband, and together they ruled the lands in peace," I concluded.

Lonely kids stared at me duly, riffling through my meaning, when Yukari blurted out, "That was so cute for something off the top of your head. Hitomi, you're so lucky."

I felt myself sit up straighter, my pride swelling at her praise. Who says actions have to speak louder than words?

But my heart really leaped for joy when Hitomi said, with a small smile, "I know."

oOo

On our way home, Hitomi and I discussed the days' events. Overall, I thought I'd made a good impression. Hitomi still seemed distant, though, and it made me worry that I'd done something terribly wrong. But I didn't press her on it, for the overall mood seemed light and cheerful. And I felt light and cheerful, too. Actually, I felt happier than I had in a long, long time, with a tint of nervousness lurking around the corner.

Parking my old, red car, I got out and opened Hitomi's door, instantly clasping her hand in mine to walk her to the school gates. I did this everyday, like a sixteen year-old-expressing his puppy love. I certainly felt like a sixteen-year-old; except, somehow, a bit wiser.

We walked the short distance in silence, engrossed in our own thoughts, mine mostly on the new journalism career I'd be starting within a week and how nice Hitomi's thumb felt as it caressed my knuckles. She, however, was thinking something entirely different.

"Van, why did you tell that story today?" she asked when we reached the gate.

"What do you mean, why?" I asked, confused.

"Why did you tell it . . . like that?" Hitomi asked again, looking down at the ground.

I still wasn't really following her, but I tried to explain. "Well, Yukari asked me to . . . And you wanted me to make a good impression and all, so I said yes . . . I tried to keep it simple, so I picked a prince, dragon, and princess . . ."

"Why did you make _me_ the princess?"

"What do you mean, _why?_" I asked again, smiling, kissing her cheek before pressing my lips lightly against her ear. "You _are_ my princess, you silly girl," I whispered, "Won't you let me be your prince?"

oOo

The rest of the week went by in its usual sequence of events. Drive a bus for eight hours, chat with Hitomi, go to the orphanage, reluctantly kiss my love goodnight. Then I'd usually drive back to my apartment, shower, and either read or write. Over the past two weeks, reading or writing before going to bed had become a habit. I read random things, I wrote random things. It felt nice, invigorating even.

That weekend I was to start my journalism career with a local newspaper. Of course, being the rookie and part-timer, I was given the simple task of writing about a championship Little League baseball game. It sounded like fun. I'd never been to a baseball game. But, sadly, I'd have to go alone.

Every once in awhile, Hitomi actually had a lot of school work to do and couldn't see me on the weekends. This weekend was one of those weekends, but for some reason, I felt a bit weird about it. Ever since Monday, Hitomi looked at me strangely, as if I were almost alien. I usually just smiled and kissed her, which seemed to calm her. Maybe I _was_ acting a bit weird, but did I really deserve the alien look?

I was thinking about what I'd read and write that Friday when Hitomi asked, "Can I come over?" while staring out the window. Her voice startled me; I'd been driving in silence, my mind on autopilot.

"Sure," I said instinctively. "But I thought you had a lot of school work?"

"Who does school work on a Friday night, Van?" she laughed.

_Yes, Van, who does school work on a Friday night? _I asked myself sarcastically.

"What? Don't want me to come over?" Hitomi asked, half-seriously.

I paused, which I knew wasn't a good thing. But I had to think about how messy my apartment was from my various writings and such. "No, it's just that my place is messy."

Hitomi gave me a look before smiling slightly, joking, "Van, seriously, when is your place _not_ messy?"

oOo

I went to my room to change, leaving Hitomi behind in my newly-arranged, paper-cluttered living room. Being a journalist, I had to get a computer, so naturally, I had to rearrange my furniture to fit one. At first, I'd considered getting a computer desk, too. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, so I went to the bank and withdrew fifteen hundred dollars. Walking around the office store I'd stopped at for about a half hour, asking a sales clerk various questions, I bought the cheapest computer there (three hundred dollars). Then, of course, I had to buy the necessary programs, which they no longer provided for free (another hundred dollars). Upon glancing at the desks, I decided I'd just use a table, pocketing the rest of the money (eleven hundred dollars).

I threw on a pair of khaki pants and a light, long-sleeved black shirt. When I entered the living room, I found Hitomi sitting on the couch, reading one of my various random writings. My heart started to race; I hadn't put much thought into anything I'd written so far. Quickly, I walked down the hall and plopped down next to her, leaning on her shoulder to see which randomness she was reading.

It was a poem, sloppily jotted down. I wondered if Hitomi could even read my hand writing, it was that messy. Since I hadn't titled anything, I quickly scanned the poem, wondering which specific depressing blah it was.

_Everyone else claims life,_

_Is complicated._

_Full of listlessness, liveliness, _

_Those solemnly seeking death._

_Life,_

_The state of living,_

_Death,_

_Not,_

_Breathing,_

_Communicating,_

_Adapting,_

_Living._

_Even dictionaries have typos_

_Sometimes._

_All die during stages of life and_

_Continue_

_Living,_

_You might mistakenly be dead right _

_Now._

_What's it like?_

_Gazing glassily at everything gliding _

_By,_

_Catch a careful glimpse._

_I was you once,_

_Before discovering_

_Change, love, care._

_Death, undeniable, unloving, uncaring. _

_Before my heart belonged,_

_To someone else._

_Life is better when it's not yours_

_Alone._

_Half of a whole isn't even worth _

_Half._

_Seventeen years,_

_Slit,_

_Sadly,_

_Alone, _

_My state of death._

_With my life,_

_A smile will always linger. _

Okay, I'm not going to lie, it's a pretty bad poem. Okay, actually, it's a _really bad _poem. I'd definitely written better over the past couple of days. Embarrassed, I lightly kissed Hitomi's lips and removed the sheet from her grasp.

"_Van,"_ she said sharply. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" I asked innocently, stacking all the floating papers on the table, sure to put the poem Hitomi'd just read somewhere in the middle, and placed them in a folder. Hitomi rolled her eyes in exasperation as she reached for the folder.

"Why can't I read what you wrote?" she whimpered. I held the folder out of reach.

"Because I don't like anything I wrote," I growled, using my free hand to keep her away from the folder. I made sure the tips of my fingers brushed tenuously from her chin to her collar bone so that my touch tickled. Determinedly, she attempted to suppress her giggles and maintain a straight face, but she soon gave in and took my hand in hers.

"Why are you so _frustrating?"_ she groaned, resting her head against my shoulder as she placed my fingertips against her lips and kissed them lightly. I knew the gesture was supposed to make me go on a guilt trip, and I fell right into her trap. I sensuously caressed her cheek, trying to fight myself, before handing her the folder.

"Why are you so stubbornly cute?" I murmured.

Hitomi pushed away from me, shuffling to the opposite end of the couch. Riffling through the folder for the poem she'd been reading, she gave me a sidelong smile that was rather alluring. I slid over to her and put an arm around her waist, waiting patiently for our discussion to begin.

"You still can't write something happy," she said bluntly, a bit of sadness in her voice. That wasn't what I'd expected to hear. And even if it was sad, I didn't expect it to affect her so deeply.

"I thought it was happy," I said indignantly.

Hitomi scrutinized the poem. "Your concept of happiness is twisted."

I snorted, then smirked, trying to erase that troubled look from her face. "Next time I write, I'll think of how I feel when I'm with you," I said, brushing stray hairs out of her face to reveal a deep blush.

"May I keep this?" Hitomi asked.

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked too quickly. What a horrible question.

"I want to remember the first thing of yours I ever read, so one day, when you're some big shot, I can make fun of you," Hitomi teased. My eyes narrowed, until she gave me the puppy look; all I could do was sigh.

"If you want it that badly, then I guess so," I conceded. Then, changing the subject, I asked, "You're free next weekend, right?"

Hitomi put the folder and poem down. "Yes," she replied quickly, wrapping her arms around my neck and shifting her position so that she sat in my lap. I knew then she wanted to cuddle with me, and I wasn't going to deny her. She was already caressing the nape of my neck, entangling her supple fingers in my coarse hair. The heat of her body against mine sent euphoria through my senses. But I had something to tell her. Unwillingly, I forced myself to break the silence and tell her what I'd arranged.

"I made reservations at the _Escaflowne_," I said hazily, allowing Hitomi to nibble on my ear.

She stopped abruptly. "_You did what?"_ she cried, flabbergasted. I guess she had every right to be. After all, the _Escaflowne _was one of the most renowned, most expensive, and most ritzy restaurants in town, and Hitomi and I were . . . none of the above.

"I made reservations at the _Escaflowne,"_ I repeated. "For next Saturday."

"You're joking," Hitomi said, attempting to laugh. "What for? How will you pay for that?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it," I assured, flashing her a smile. I could tell she wasn't at all happy with me, simply because she probably felt it unnecessary to go to such a fancy place; after all, food is food, right?

"What _for_, Van?" she repeated sedately.

I shrugged my right shoulder, which she wasn't leaning on, lazily, as if this excursion would be no big deal. "No reason."

Hitomi gave me a troubled look, causing creases to line her forehead. There could have been a million things she was thinking. Like I already said, she more than likely thought it careless to pay so much for food. Perhaps she thought I was crazy. Perhaps she thought I was joking. Perhaps she thought I couldn't pay for it. Perhaps she pondered what to wear. I don't know, and I didn't really care, for I knew she absolutely wouldn't refuse outright.

"I don't understand you . . ." Her words were barely audible, even though her lips were right against my ear. I cupped her chin, forcing her to look at me.

"Now, where were we?" I enticed.

Hitomi ran her thumb gently over my lips, stroking my hair with her other hand. "I'm not sure where _you_ were," she joked, centimeters away from my face. "But I think _I_ was just about to French kiss you."

oOo

My weekend was so dull after that Friday night. But I did have fun at that baseball game. Interviewing little baseball players who'd just won a championship gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I think I wore a permanent smile that day. My smile lasted through the week, because Hitomi acted like a cute little kid herself.

She still couldn't believe that I'd made reservations at the _Escaflowne._ Hell, I could barely believe I'd done such a thing. Everyday, she asked '_Did you really?'_ I always replied with a simple _'Yes'._ I received frequent hugs from her (even if she did keep telling me the reservation was unnecessary). The peculiar behavior she'd had towards me the week before melted away. I basked gleefully in all the affection she showered on me. I finally felt like I'd done something right all on my own.

Plus, when Hitomi told Millerna and Dryden about what I'd planned, even they praised me.

"Van, you've become quite the charmer," Millerna remarked one day, nudging me in the ribs. "You've got that girl wrapped around your finger. Way to go. Now, who've you got to thank for making you such a responsible man?"

With the goofiest look I could manage, I said, "Hm . . . I think I have Hitomi to thank for that."

"Van, why are you always so mean to me?" Millerna pouted. Dryden laughed, coming up from behind and enveloping his wife in a big hug. He smiled mischievously at me. I knew what was coming.

"See, didn't I tell you she'd be good for you? From day one, I told you that." All I could do was smile with softened eyes, a look that said _I'm sorry I never listened to you, oh wise one._

My biggest wave of praise (and surprise), however, came on Thursday night. It was around eight o'clock, just after I'd taken a nice, warm shower. Rummaging around in the refrigerator, murmuring to myself, the phone rang suddenly. It startled me so badly I instinctively gasped and slammed the refrigerator door shut. I contemplated who could be calling me. Only Hitomi and my bosses knew my number; but when I looked at the caller id, I didn't recognize the number at all.

"Hello?" I asked tentatively.

"Hey Van!" a peppy female voice chimed over the phone. The connection was a bit fuzzy, leading me to believe the caller telephoned me via a cellular phone. Another female voice yelled 'HI!' in the background.

"Who is this . . ?" I asked, confused.

"It's Yukari and Merle!" Yukari, whose voice I remembered faintly from our meeting, exclaimed. "Do you remember us? Are you mad that we called you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course I remember you," I mumbled, pressing the phone against my shoulder so I could continue my quest for food. "And no, I'm not mad that you called me. I'm just wondering how you obtained my number."

Yukari laughed on the other end. "Well, I easily _obtained_ your number from Hitomi," she said, emphasizing 'obtained' as if I'd said something drastically wrong. "Not that she knows I'm calling you. She can't hide things very well; I don't even think she would be able to hide a needle in a haystack."

I chuckled a bit, uneasy. "Okay. So why are you calling?"

"To chat with you! Is that so wrong?" Yukari asked.

"As long as you don't make advances, I suppose not." I replied, half-seriously. I don't know, do people usually _call_ their best friends' boyfriends/girlfriends to _chat_?

"I would never do that!" Yukari laughed. I could hear Merle laughing in the background. "Besides, Hitomi's too hopelessly in love with you. She might kill me if I so much as touched you."

After turning on the stove to boil some water to make instant soup, I sat down on the couch, amused. "Somehow, I just can't see Hitomi killing someone else. She's too kind, gentle, and sensitive for that."

"Too true," Yukari said simply before jumping right along. "Hitomi tells us you're taking her to the _Escaflowne."_

"Yes. Why? Is there a problem?" I asked, concerned suddenly that perhaps Hitomi's friends _didn't _like me after all.

"A problem? Hardly! I think this is one of the greatest things that's ever happened to Hitomi. I've never seen her so into a guy before. Well, actually, I've never seen her into guys period, but . . . whatever."

"What about Allen?" I asked lightly, flipping through a random sports magazine I'd picked up. I'd never spoken of Allen after the day Hitomi'd forgiven me, but the image of his pompous ass still burned in my mind. I wish the damage I'd inflicted in our little scuffle would be permanent.

"I pushed her with Allen," Yukari conceded. "Even though I knew she wanted you. But you were just and bus driver and all, so . . . I don't know. I just felt she deserved better. But I was totally wrong about you, Van."

"Uh . . . thanks?" I guess it was supposed to be a compliment. Not that I blamed her for thinking such things. I mean, hey, all those months ago (they seemed more like years), I felt the same way about myself. Thinking about how much I'd changed made my both happy and sad. Something within me had died, and something new had been born; I was stuck in the middle, trying to figure out what to do with the change.

"Well, I basically just wanted to call and tell you I'm happy my best friend has finally fallen in love and that I really had fun going with her to pick out a new skirt." I heard a "me, too!" from Merle.

"She bought a new outfit?" I asked, alarmed.

"Oh yeah, when she told her mom about this, she insisted Hitomi get some nice, new clothes," Yukari said lightly. "Mrs. Kanzaki likes having an excuse to make her daughter wear something nice, you know?"

I smiled, getting up to turn down the boiling water. "I can't wait, then."

"You'll love it!" Yukari exclaimed. "Well, I guess I should leave you alone now, Van. We should all get together again soon."

"Yeah," I agreed, "We should."

"I look forward to it. Bye bye, Van!"

"Bye . . ." I said, smiling softly, as the phone clicked, indicating that she'd hung up.

oOo

You'd think with all the preparation I'd put into Saturday night, I'd be, well, _prepared_. But to be frank, I wasn't. I mean, when you think about it, I was a poor, twenty-five-year-old bus driver who'd never had anything in the world trying to impress one of the sweetest girls on the planet. Yeah, because that's not nerve-wracking, right?

I ran a brush through my hair. It must've been my millionth time; if I had kept it up, I might not have had any hair left. Fixing the collar of my maroon dress shirt, I gazed at myself in the mirror. Someone else seemed to be staring back at me. Perhaps my clothes weren't good enough? I'd originally thought of getting a tuxedo, but thought that would be too fancy. At the clothes store, I decided a maroon shirt would do well because . . . I dunno, it would bring out the color of my eyes? (It was either maroon or navy blue, because I felt awkward in light colors.) To match, I'd picked out a nice pair of black dress pants and a light, black jacket.

Can you tell I'm no clothes master?

It was six o'clock on Saturday night. I'd made our reservations for seven. I told Hitomi I'd pick her up at six twenty. I knew it wouldn't take twenty minutes to drive to her dorm, but if I waited, pacing to and fro in my new dress shoes, I think I would've died.

Checking to make sure I had everything, I made my way out to the car.

oOo

With a few minutes to spare, I sat in the car, thinking about God-knows-what. About anything and everything at the same time. My nerves were completely shot. What was I going to say when I saw her? I knew she liked it when I said she was beautiful, like all girls do. But lots of girls were beautiful, and lots of guys used horribly cliched lines to tell girls such. I wanted Hitomi to know she possessed something . . . special.

Needless to say, I was surprised when the passenger-side door opened and Hitomi sat down next to me, giving me a funny look. I went from scared that a gunman was going to kill me to silent gawker. For once, she wore her back, and although it's rather simple, my mind reeled at how much it altered her appearance. She wore a dressy light-blue shirt that fit her figure nicely, matched with a cream color skirt with flower patterns that reached just below her knees. In the moonlight, her eyes shimmered, shying away from my scrutinizing stare.

"You're here early," Hitomi observed. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes," I replied, starting the car. "But it was my own fault."

"What were you thinking about?"

"What I would say to you first."

Hitomi cocked her head to the side as she smiled slightly. "And what were you going to say?"

I sighed. "Well, I didn't want to be typical and say something cheesy like 'you're so beautiful', even though, of course, you are. But then, you know, I thought you're more than just _beautiful_, because you're always beautiful." I shrugged, looking at her as she tried to suppress her blush. "So yeah, I don't know, I wanted to say something that would make you feel really special . . . because you _are_ special . . . I just wanted to say it in so many more words, you know?"

"Well, you just made me feel really special anyway, even if you couldn't say it in so many words," Hitomi whispered.

I smiled, taking her hand and delicately kissing her knuckles. "The night belongs to you, princess."

oOo

At the _Escaflowne_, we had to be the most under-dressed people there. And the lowest class. And the most unrefined. But we also had to be one of the most happy. Everyone else there appeared to be on business, or like they always ate this fancy, or as if they were better than those around them. Hitomi and I . . . well, I mostly tried to make Hitomi loosen up and have fun.

"Everything is really expensive," Hitomi observed uneasily, glancing up at me in the dimly-lit room.

"Uh huh," I replied, smiling at her sweetly. "And apparently really tasty, too."

After a minute, she told me what she wanted, and out of pure curiosity, I glanced at the price and compared it to all the others. It was one of the least expensive things on the menu. I know price shouldn't matter and all, but I sighed despite myself. It kind of hurt, too, to think that Hitomi thought so lowly of me.

"You can pick whatever you want, you know," I said, exasperated.

Hitomi hid behind her menu, grumbling an, "I hate you" before choosing something else.

"I love you, too," I said sincerely, watching as the faintest of smiles graced her lips.

oOo

After our fancy dinner (which Hitomi conceded was the best tasting dinner she'd ever had), we did what we normally did: we went for a walk in the park. But we didn't walk just anywhere; I made sure we went to the same spot where we first 'hung out' together.

"It seems like so long ago," Hitomi whispered, leaning against my shoulder on the very hill where we went stargazing.

"If it feels like long ago for you, it feels like ages to me . . . I feel like a totally different person."

"Don't kid yourself." She laughed. "You're still dark and mysterious around others, and even sometimes around me. But that's okay, because I fell in love with the dark and mysterious Van in the first place," Hitomi said as we began to walk down the path again.

"When did you first start to like me?" I asked, out of pure curiosity.

Hitomi thought about that a bit before answering. "I remember thinking on the first day that I took the bus that you were way too young and good-looking to be a bus driver, even if you were a total jerk to me. Then, the more I pestered you, the more I saw that you were a kind person, deep down. And, oh, I don't know, I guess from there . . . I decided I wanted to bring out the kind, gentle side of you. And I wanted you, kind side or no, to like me . . ." she trailed off, looking up at me with a distant stare.

"Guess you got what you wanted and then some," I said lightly, glancing over at the pond. "Let's sit down for a little while."

"Why? It's cold . . ." Hitomi said, giving me one of those funny looks. At the mention of cold, I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"Please, I don't want this night to end. Not yet."

She sighed. "If that's what you want."

I led her over to the edge of the pond, where we sat on the smoothened stone. The water looked pitch black, despite the moonlight shimmering off it. Hitomi bravely ran her hand through the murky-looking water. Dark water always gave me the creeps, and watching her caress it so gently sent a chill down my spine. But I sucked it up. I only wanted to stay for a few minutes. Hopefully, I'd find enough courage by then to say what I so desperately wanted to.

But after a minute or so, it was Hitomi who broke the silence, shattering my thoughts. "Van, what _do_ you want?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, only half-listening to her.

"These days, you do so much for _me,_ you say so much for _my sake,_ you try so hard to make _me_ happy. But I feel I . . . don't do much for you, so why do you do so much for me? What is it that _you_ want?"

I kissed her lips softly, the answer coming easily to me. "I want you to be happy. Seeing you happy makes me happy. And I want Hana to be happy for the same reason. So I guess I just want to be happy, but I gain my happiness through you; I've lived a selfish, lonely life for too long," I said quietly. "If you're sad, I'm sad."

She didn't say anything; I took it as my chance.

"So, what am I to you? Do you call me your boyfriend, like some teenage infatuation?"

Hitomi laughed. "What a random question."

_Argh._

I laughed with her. "Because you're not random," I said sarcastically. She bit her lip to hide the laugh.

"Yes, I call you my boyfriend. But only because I don't know what else to call you. Unless you have a term in mind?" she asked playfully.

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed hard, only seemingly causing my heart to speed up. I hesitated. Was I doing the right thing? Was it too soon? Did I have enough courage? I picked up her hand and held it in mine, holding her bewildered gaze in my concentrated one, until the faintest hint of realization dawned on her.

"I think I do have a term in mind," I said, almost inaudibly, a bit hoarsely. "You never answered my question from before, so I'll ask it again." I got down on one knee, my eyes pleading with hers, which suddenly filled with tears. Pulling out and displaying the ring, I squeezed her hand. "Princess, won't you let me be your prince?"

Hitomi sobbed in response, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"Will you marry me?" I asked softly.

She shut her eyes, the tears glinting in the moonlight. "Van . . ." she said meekly.

I waited for her to continue, barely hearing her; the pounding of my own heart drowned out her voice. Again, I squeezed her hand, a look of worry etched on my face.

"How could you . . ?" she asked as she practically fell into my arms. I caught her as I knelt, trembling, holding her close and feeling her warm tears against my neck. "Yes . . ." she whispered into my ear, letting out another sob. I held her closer, nuzzling her wet cheek. I didn't even notice that my cheeks were wet with warm tears, too.

"I love you," I said fiercely, and that night, as we held each other, I thought my life was normal, that we were a normal couple, that our love would last forever, that I finally belonged somewhere.

You'd think I'd have learned the hard way that there's no such thing as normalcy.

**AN: So, it's 12:12 AM on Thursday (oh wait . . . that makes it Friday . . . yeesh) and I've finally finished this chapter. Go me. Aren't you all happy? But I'm sad . . . THERE WAS NO ANGST! The tragedy! I actually wrote an almost purely happy chapter! **

**Funny, because I haven't felt very happy lately. But yeah, my lovely readers, you should enjoy the happiness while it lasts (watch, when it's time to write all the sad stuff, I'll be happy). I'm going back to fluff-gone-angst next chapter . . . and the chapter after that . . . and the chapter after that . . . and there are no more chapters after that, haha. **

**Oh yes, and some of you have been wondering where the hell this story is/has been going. Well, I guess I should explain stuff, then (even though that means I'm not making myself clear . . . bah). In this chapter, I tried to weave together Van as a writer; I also tried to keep the fairytale theme throughout. When I started writing this story, I guess I wrote it for this reason: I wanted to show how quickly we humans can change when something (whether it be good or bad) happens. This story, while it is, indeed, a love story, is more about _character development_ than anything. If you read all the chapters consecutively, you'll find that Van's views have changed drastically. And, as the chapters have progressed, I've tried to reveal more about Hitomi. Next chapter will be more on Hitomi's character than Van's. So, you see, the conflict of this story is just . . . well, life, in its internal and external conflicts, I suppose. Our thoughts. Our feelings. How we want so desperately to fit in. How to get over a lasting sadness. Finding love and happiness.**

**Yeah, all that good mushy stuff we all fantasize about. And lots of the bad stuff we fantasize about, too.**

**When you think about it, anyone's life could be a story. I could easily write a story about myself and make it sound so terribly interesting. I could probably just as well write a story about any of you and make it sound just as interesting, if not more. Sure, we have our fairy tale's and our fantasy stories, but I believe there's more satisfaction in writing about something that could actually happen and that we can all relate to than something unreal. **

**Wow, my spiel of the month o.O (It's because it's so late (early), heh.)**

**Well, I love all my reviewers, and to those who don't review . . . I guess I love you, too. (Just not as much, haha.) I encourage constructive criticism! (Or criticism in general.) REVIEW!  
**

**-Spirit0**


	9. The Melancholy of Christmas Carols

Last Stop

**AN: I SWEAR I WILL FINISH YOU, LS! It's not that I want this joy ride o' mine to end or anything, it's just that I really want to finally finish a story, you know? Then I can move on to these other story ideas floating around in my head saying 'write me, write me!'. Yeah . . . thanks to all those who reviewed! 194 and counting, w00t! (Gawd, I'm gonna like, break frickin' 200. Craziness. -Luffs you all so much :D-) **

**This chapter starts out slow (with good reason . . . I'm building up to it!), but then picks up (um . . . well, maybe it's just slow in general?). Just a warning so you don't start yelling at me with, "That was so goddamn boring, what the hell were you thinking!" (Of course, none of you would actually say that to me in those terms . . . I think?)**

**Oh yes, and the second half of this chapter is very music-oriented . . . more talk about that at then end of the chapter, though.**

Chapter Nine: The Melancholy of Christmas Carols

"I think you should tell them," I said seriously, glancing up at Hitomi over the journalism notes I'd been riffling through. At the other end of the couch, she pretended to ignore me, sipping at her hot tea daintily as she watched the news. With a scowl, I went back to reading my notes on a new restaurant in town that I had to review, _The Crusade._ Overall, it was an alright restaurant (now if only I could be so concise in an article, my life would be so much easier!).

"Why do you want me to tell them so much? Why can't it be a surprise?" Hitomi asked, leaning back on the couch, her hair in disarray, giving me a blank, yet alluring, look. Resisting the urge to get up and kiss her, I glared at her for playing games with me.

"Because I think your parents have the right to know we're engaged beforehand," I said. "Haven't you ever watched movies? Nothing good ever comes from surprising parents with engagements."

"That only happens when the parents don't know _who_ their child is engaged _to_, but my parents have already met you," Hitomi said with a laugh. "Nice try, though."

I put my notes down with a sigh, getting up to sit next to her (while mentally correcting her atrocious grammar). "The fact that they've already met me is exactly the problem . . ."

"What do you mean?" she asked defiantly. I turned away, thinking of the best way to put what I was thinking into words. Cupping my chin in her hands, Hitomi forced me to look at her, her fiery eyes boring into mine. I knew I was treading on dangerous waters then, but I didn't care. (Okay, maybe I cared just a little bit.)

"Well . . ." I began, trailing off. What I was going to say would probably offend her, and I really didn't know how she would take it, but I said it anyway. "Your mother . . . didn't really seem to like me."

"That's not true!" she exclaimed, pushing my face away roughly. She leaned back again, haughtily, with her arms folded in front of her chest. Even when mad, she was cute. "How can you think such a thing? What gave you that idea?"

"Nothing . . ." I murmured, knowing it was pointless to fight with her; still, I pressed one last time, for the sake of argument, you know. "You should still tell them before we . . ." Her lips locked with mine before I could even finish, causing me to lose my thoughts in the sheer passion of it. She nipped at my bottom lip as if saying _shut up and kiss me, stupid, because I sure as hell am not listening to whatever you're saying!_ By the end of the mind-ravaging kiss, I let out a throaty moan and Hitomi was on top of me as we lay sprawled on the couch.

Hitomi smirked at me while stroking my cheek, her eyes dancing triumphantly. Allowing me to catch my breathe, she played with my hair absently. Her fingertips against my scalp sent chills down my spine, and the ends of her silky, sandy brown hair tickled my face.

"Damn you," was all I could say.

"Love you!" she said playfully, nuzzling her face into my neck before flopping her head on the pillow to look at me again. "I win," she said lowly.

"You win," I conceded, pulling her closer to me, close enough that our foreheads touched on the pillow. All work forgotten, I simply sighed and gave Hitomi a peck on the cheek, allowing my hands to wander under her shirt. She stiffened slightly, but I simply caressed her back, needing to feel her skin, making sure my hands went neither too high nor too low, lest I ruin the moment (which I always seemed to do).

This time, however, Hitomi broke the silence first. "Promise me something," she said, her fingers gently brushing my neck.

"Mm-hm," I replied lazily, shifting my face even closer to hers, wanting so badly to have a tongue war with her.

"Promise me you won't buy me a Christmas present."

Hitomi's statement made me temporarily forget my fascination with her lips (which I had watched longingly as she spoke). I laughed at the absurdity of the statement. "What do you mean? You want me to make you something from scratch? From the heart? Because I wish you'd told me sooner if that's what you wanted."

"_Van_, I'm being serious. And you know that's not what I meant," Hitomi said, a bit hurt, causing her lower lip to jut out slightly. It was very distracting, especially as her thumb somehow came to trace the corner of my mouth. "I just think that, well, since we have to save money now, we shouldn't buy each other presents, because that's a waste of money, right?"

"I guess," I said automatically.

"Were you even listening to me?" she asked, staring at me hard and bewildered.

"Yeah. No Christmas presents. Waste of money. Got it," I said, my lips mere millimeters away from hers. "But I was really thinking about how much I want to kiss you senseless," I whispered.

I never gave her time to respond to that.

oOo

This time, Hitomi let me drive to her parent's house. Originally, she hadn't wanted me to, saying that it put all that extra stress on me, but, being me, I pleaded until she saw it my way (I should be the judge of what does and does not stress me out! I mean, since it didn't rain or snow or anything, how could it stress me out?). Although a smidgen lengthier than a train, it was a much nicer and peaceful ride, in my opinion. We talked most of the way up; I could see her trying to stay awake as she held my arm. Eventually, though, she drifted off to sleep. The sight made me smile.

We arrived at her parent's house about ten o'clock Thursday night. Since Christmas fell on a Sunday, Hitomi wanted to stay Friday to Monday, so that _'Friday we won't get too caught up in Christmas preparations, and then we have Monday after Christmas to rest'_. By my reasoning, her plan made sense, so I took off work Friday and Monday. Hitomi complained that I should take the whole week after Christmas off, since I never used any vacation days, but I decided against it; you never know when you'll really need those days, right?

Parked in the Kanzaki driveway, I gawked at all the colorful lights and decorations set up outside. On the roof, the words _Merry Christmas _blared, and Santa waved happily from his sled, pulled by his reindeer. String lights, cast down from the roof, created a multi-colored Christmas tree. Reefs hung from all the windows and fake candles blazed on the sill. I'd never pictured the Kanzaki's as being highly religious people. (Then again, in today's world, who needs religion to celebrate Christmas?)

Tearing myself away from my fascination with the decorations, I wondered whether or not I should wake up Hitomi or carry her to her room. I figured she'd hate me if I did the latter, so I gently shook her arm, whispering her name. No reaction. I smiled, turning her face towards mine and giving her a few pats on the cheek. A slight reaction. Deftly, I moved in for the kill, catching her earlobe between my teeth before sliding to her mouth; by then, however, she was completely awake.

"What was _that_ about?" she asked. In the dim lighting from inside the house and from the street lamps, I noted a blush. I smiled with satisfaction.

"Nothing. Just waking you up, my lovely heavy sleeper," I replied, getting out of the car and opening the trunk. She, too, got out of the car to join me at the trunk, taking things from me as I removed them. I made sure to carry the heaviest things myself, however, because I'm a sexist bastard (I'm not _really_ a sexist bastard . . .).

"I don't think my parents would appreciate you roughing me up in the car," she said, mock-sternly, as we began walking towards the house with our things.

"I wasn't 'roughing you up'," I said, mock-indignantly. "I was simply _waking _you up . . . unless you _want_ me to rough you up?" I asked slyly. I most certainly wouldn't have minded, after all.

Hitomi gave me a weak smile as she knocked on the door. Almost immediately, her mother answered, engulfing Hitomi in that motherly embrace. I stood awkwardly off to the side, watching and smiling softly, somehow envying their close mother and daughter bond. "Hello, sweetheart," I heard her mother whisper. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, mom," Hitomi said sincerely. Mrs. Kanzaki pulled back and took Hitomi's bags then, leading her daughter inside. Although I was never invited in, I followed quietly, putting our luggage down just as Mrs. Kanzaki had. Inside, Mamoru sat on the couch in a plain white t-shirt and red boxers, watching a sitcom. Mr. Kanzaki put down the newspaper he'd been reading on a recliner to greet his daughter. He smiled when he saw me, almost as if in shock.

"Well well, if it isn't Van," he said, amused. "We didn't scare you away on your last visit?"

I laughed. "No, Mister-- I mean, Sadato," I quickly corrected myself, albeit I did forget that I was supposed to call him 'dad.'

Mr. Kanzaki laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "Good, good, you remembered not to make me feel like an old cripple!"

"Damn, he must be a real keeper if we didn't scare him last time _and _he still remembers all that little crap," Mamoru said as he got up and stretched, his tawny muscles flexing as he ran both hands through his choppy blond hair. He smirked at me in his _I'm-too-cool-for-you_ way. Returning the smirk in a _watch-it, smart-ass_ way, he nevertheless greeted me with a, "Nice to see you."

After that, Hitomi and I chatted with her family until about eleven thirty. Mostly Hitomi talked, catching them up on her life, as they did the same. I sat there politely, listening to Hitomi tell them everything I already knew. Mr. and Mrs. Kanzaki claimed not to have done much-- _"the same old same old"_-- while Mamoru enthusiastically related the success of his band at school and around town. When asked how school was actually going, he simply shrugged and smiled, saying "As good as it can go for me."

"Your usual marginal passing grades, then," Hitomi sneered.

"It's all good," Mamoru replied nonchalantly.

All of us retired to bed by midnight. Hitomi again slept on the couch with me, snuggling into me. I was saddened, though, that this time we were fully clothed because of the freezing weather. Her arm, draped over my stomach, felt warm, but her hand was freezing. As I rubbed her hand with mine, she fell asleep, her head resting on my chest (what ashame I had a red wool shirt on). Happily, I too fell asleep.

But all the sleep in the world couldn't have prepared me for Friday.

oOo

Lazily, I opened my eyes, disappointed to find that Hitomi no longer laid next to me. Groggily, I sat up, turning around at the sounds cupboards being opened, plates being set, food sizzling. Mr. Kanzaki sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper while sipping his coffee. Mrs. Kanzaki cooked breakfast, while Hitomi, already ready for the day dressed in jeans and a red sweater, set the table. She smiled when she noticed me watching her sleepily from the sofa bed, the sheets still haphazardly covering my legs.

She only gave me a peck on the cheek, due to her father's stares. "Good morning, Van," she said, running a hand through my thoroughly messy hair. It felt nice to feel her fingers on my scalp so early in the morning.

"Good morning," I muttered, still trying to shake off sleep.

"Breakfast is almost done. You can go get dressed, if you want." Hitomi gave my hair one last good run through before going back to setting the table. Putting the couch back in order, I glanced out the window. Outside, snow fell, coming down at a decent rate.

"It's snowing," I said, like a fascinated first grader in a daze, marveling at the sheer purity of it all. Yeah. That's how incoherent I was.

"It's supposed to snow all day. We're supposed to get anywhere from six to eight inches," Mrs. Kanzaki said, never missing a beat in her cooking. That was the first time she'd spoken to me during this second trip. And she'd spoken in such a monotone way, about such a mundane subject. But I didn't let that upset me . . . it was still a bit too early to be upset.

Only a bit, though.

Breakfast, just as on my first visit, started normally. Mr. and Mrs. Kanzaki chatted with each other about the news and whatnot, while Mamoru, Hitomi, and I talked about less sophisticated things, like school and punk music. And our relationship. Mamoru was actually genuinely interested in Hitomi and I, what we did for fun, if we were happy, what we intended to do in the future. I suppose the future part clicked Hitomi's brain into drive. With a glance at me, she gave a soft smile. By now, her parents had stopped talking to one another, no doubt listening in on our conversation.

"Van and I have something to tell you." Hitomi's parents looked at us slowly, already knowing what was coming; I mean, duh, even Mamoru could figure out that we were going to say the word "engaged." What other _something_ could there be? We've all watched those cliched movies that I mentioned earlier. _'Oh yeah, I just brought Van home to tell you we broke up.'_ That's not usually how it goes (although it would be a nice twist to a movie, don't you think?).

No one replied to Hitomi's statement.

With our fingers interlocked and her head on my shoulder, Hitomi said the words everyone already guessed, for the dramatic effect of it all. "We're engaged."

Another uneasy silence.

"That's great, honey," Mr. Kanzaki said softly, with a far away look in his eyes; the look that said _my daughter is all grown up and doesn't need me anymore . . ._ Despite this, he managed a smile, giving me a curious scan. "Now you really must call me dad, you know."

"Okay . . ."

"Told you he was a keeper," Mamoru drawled, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Hitomi looked up at me, her eyes dancing with both joy and love. I kissed her forehead, but remained apprehensive.

"When did this happen?" Mrs. Kanzaki asked quietly, staring down at the the table blankly, as if in deep concentration.

"When Van took me to dinner at the _Escaflowne_," Hitomi replied happily.

"I see . . ."

As if on cue, Mamoru rose to give his sister a hug, to take all the tension away. I thought it was kind of adorable, watching two completely opposite siblings giving each other a hug . . . I decided to focus on their cuteness rather than Mrs. Kanzaki's evil glares. "Sis, I'm happy for you. You finally came out of the box." Mamoru looked over at me, an evil grin on his face. "Van, Van, Van, we need to spend more time together, male-bonding, see if you're worthy of my sister and all that good junk."

"I look forward to it."

"Well, you men can have your bonding time by going grocery shopping this afternoon, while Hitomi and I clean around the house."

Even Hitomi felt the chill of her mother's curt turn in conversation.

oOo

Walking down the aisles at the grocery store, slightly behind Sadato and Mamoru, made me feel embarrassed and out-of-place. I kept telling myself not to feel that way, that, since Hitomi and I were to be joined in holy matrimony and all that good junk, these people were my family. But thinking about being part of a family, a real family, made me queasy. On Christmas, all of Hitomi's relatives would gather at her house for dinner. They, too, would be part of my family. _My _family. I shuddered involuntarily, jolts of joy, terror, and unsureness ruining through my veins. A life with Hitomi. Included in a real family. I couldn't get over it.

Especially the fact that Mrs. Kanzaki appeared to hate my guts.

But then, I thought, Mamoru and Sadato liked me.

And then my thoughts reverted back to the fact that Mrs. Kanzaki didn't like me.

It was just one big circle of crazy thoughts.

Sadato fell into step with me, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he said simply.

The gesture comforted me.

His advice was terribly wrong.

oOo

The moment I put one foot through the doorway, Hitomi pushed me back out, grocery bags and all.

Snow continued to fall steadily, the skies a light gray and quickly darkening for the early onset of night. The temperature, already below freezing, dropped little by little. On the ground, layers of snow crunched under our feet. Children in the distance could be heard playing in the seasonal pleasure. Practically stumbling from Hitomi's fierce shove, I studied her in shock. She'd obviously been waiting for me, for she had on a pair of faded green boots, navy blue mittens, a white winter cap, and a puffy, white winter coat. I, too, wore a warm jacket and hat, but I had no boots, and only had a pair of tattered gloves to warm my hands. I wanted to go inside, if only to stay warm.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, unable to control it. "I have to take these bags inside."

Silently, but with an annoyed expression, Hitomi took the bags from me, opened the door, dropped the food inside, and closed the door again swiftly. She took my hand and led me away from the house before I could say anything else.

"Hitomi, what's wrong? Where are we going?" Halting her, I spun her around and embraced her, stroking the ends of her hair not covered by her hat, although neither of us could feel it.

The eyes I loved so much narrowed, glaring up at me menacingly. "You were right, that's what's wrong. And don't say 'I told you so'."

I shrugged. "So long as you know I told you so, I see no reason for me to say it."

Hitomi pushed away from me, on the verge of tears.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

I caught her hands again, worried this time. She tried to wiggle away. "Hitomi, seriously, you have to talk to me. So your mom doesn't like me so much . . . does it really upset you this badly?"

"Yes," she said meekly. My body stiffened.

"Why?"

She shook her head, avoiding my gaze. "I don't know . . ."

"I love you," I said forcefully. "I love you more than anything."

Our eyes finally locked as tears began to spill down her cheeks. Hastily, I swiped them away, fearing the cold. We were both already snow covered and chilled. Chilled to the core. "I know you do. But so does my mother. And I love you both. Don't you see . . ?"

I saw, but I didn't want to. I never imagined this would happen. I never imagined Hitomi would question our future just because someone else opposed it.

"What are you saying?" I asked hoarsely. "Who cares what your mother thinks?" I continued, outraged.

"I do!" Hitomi exclaimed, angry and hurt by my outburst. Her hands slipped out of mine. And it seemed as though her heart was slipping away from me, too.

"Then what the hell are you saying? Would you break it off with me just to please your mother?"

"I don't know what I'm saying!" she choked, pivoting away from me. "Just leave me alone. You wouldn't understand!"

I wanted to run after her, in my mind, I really did. In my mind, I wanted to talk her down, to knock some sense into her, to prove how much I loved her. Unlike my mind, however, my heart slowed, shutting down, making the frigid air hard to inhale. Snowflakes fluttered like feathers on the nippy wind, blurring my vision. Hitomi disappeared in the swirling mess, in the deepening darkness. And I stood there, frozen in place, wondering what to do. What could I do? Where could I go? I had no idea where Hitomi had gone; I couldn't bear to go back to the Kanzaki household. There was nowhere to go, nowhere I belonged.

_"You wouldn't understand."_

I slid to the ground in a heap on the corner, feeling numb as snow surrounded me.

And just sat there.

oOo

_"Van!"_ Hitomi cried shrilly, franticly, desperately, disturbing the peace, clutching onto me as though if she let go, I'd be gone. But I was far from gone, and her high-pitched cry made me flinch. She couldn't have been gone for more than half an hour, a half an hour in which I did nothing, except sit and stare.

It must have looked awkward, to see us on the corner, illuminated by the reflection of street lights on snow, clinging to each other.

"Van, what are you doing?" Hitomi sobbed, tearing off her mittens to feverishly rub my (surely blue) lips. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Hitomi must've been really upset to be cursing. Yet I ignored her question.

"Not so loud . . . Where have you been?" I asked haughtily.

"Are you okay? Your cheeks are so cold . . ." Hitomi said, tilting my face, giving me a thorough examination.

"You don't have frost bite, do you? Your fingers are freezing . . ." I said fretfully.

"Why didn't you go home?"

"How could you have left me here?"

We glared at each other.

"Van--"

"Hitomi--"

"Why aren't you listening to me?" we yelled simultaneously while hugging each other tightly. Hitomi whimpered into my chest, grasping my jacket with a shaking hand. I spoke calmly as I rose, supporting her with both arms around her waist. We walked back to her house, arms linked, in silence, desperate to warm ourselves.

Even Mamoru seemed mildly concerned, staring at us from the couch when we walked through the door. Anna Kanzaki stopped cleaning the dishes, turning to us with tired eyes, obviously worn out the day's events (whatever they had been). Sadato sat in the same chair as the day before, distraught while reading a book, shaking his head at us. I sensed that the two had a fight. Hitomi, adding to the tension, took off her jacket and other garments in a rush, leaving them hanging, soaking, on the coat rack by the door. Hastily, she placed my things there, too, then dragged me to her room, slamming and locking the door behind us.

Hitomi turned on her small reading lamp. In the eerie shadows, she shivered. I stood against the door, wondering what to do, wondering what to say. But seeing her shiver, I knew what to do, if only in that moment. Pulling back the covers of the bed, I scooped her up, placed her down gently, then crawled in with her. Curiously, I glanced at her clock.

We couldn't have been outside for more than twenty minutes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pained. "I'm sorry for what I said . . ."

I quelled her with a light kiss. "Shush. Don't say anything."

"But your cheeks, your lips, they're so cold." She stroked my cheek with her thumb, concern etched on her face, eyes sparkling with worry in the dim light.

Taking her hand in mine, I brushed her fingertips to my lips. "Then warm them," I said playfully, desperate for a distraction.

Her lips quirked into a slight smile before meeting mine.

I swear to God she came on to me. She always did, in a sort of playful, "come get me if you really want me" way, never with a straight forward "I want you _now_." No, no, it started with simple butterfly kisses, to tease, to make me want more, to make me beg. And trust me, I would beg, would let out a soft, pitiful whimper, would press her ever closer to me. Her hands, ruffling my hair, sliding down the back of my neck, tracing my spine, drove me crazy.

We were warm after only a minute. But I didn't want to be warm, I wanted to be _hot _and _satisfied_.

Hitomi lightly nipped my bottom lip, sending quivers of joy and need through my body; or perhaps it was want, they both seemed the same at the time. Looking back, I believe they went hand in hand, needing and wanting; I wanted her because I needed her, I needed her because I might die from wanting so badly. Deepening the kiss tenfold, I rolled over, pinning her underneath me for more control, for better access. She complied willingly, all the while driving me insane with her sensuous tongue. But I needed more, more than just her lips, as I slid down to her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders. Her skin seemed so perfect. And still I needed more.

Already under her shirt, I caressed her breasts, so tender to the touch. Hitomi tensed, but made no move to stop me in my quest.

She waited until I tried to remove her sweater to pull back.

It wasn't the first time I'd tried to have sex with Hitomi, and it _obviously_ wasn't the first time she'd stopped me, either. For all my trying, I had scored zero with her. After the first couple of tries, I admit, I basically gave up, but I still pushed, sometimes, like now, in her room. It really pissed me off that she turned _me_ on, made _me_ lose my head, made _me_ make the first real move, then put up all these shields and barriers to keep me out and turn me off, like a power switch. Unfortunately, I'm much more complicated (I think) than a simple power switch, and my sexual desires were very hard to shut off once turned on.

When I attempted to talk about it, Hitomi always gave me the same answers. _"I'm not ready," _or _"It's too soon,_" sometimes even the _"I want to wait until I'm married" _line. This time, though, this time was different. It was the first time I had attempted since our engagement. Did she _really_ want to wait until we were married? Or . . .

"Are you scared?" I asked, looking directly into her eyes.

She flinched and looked away.

"V-Van, this isn't the time or the place . . ." she began, in a hollow, weak-stern voice.

"Then why did you start it? And you're avoiding the question."

She squirmed under me, but I kept her pinned there. Fear welled in her eyes briefly, then passed on to defeat. Or acceptance, now that I reflect upon it. "_You_ started it. And I don't want to talk about this now . . ."

"I do."

"I don't want to fight with you," she pleaded, leaning up to give me a halfhearted kiss. "Please."

"Who said we're going to fight? Just answer the question. Are you scared?"

She sighed. "I'm scared, okay? Happy?"

"Not really," I said, giving her an apologetic kiss on the cheek. "Why are you scared to make love to me?"

_"Van!"_ she hissed lowly, the anger from earlier seeping through. "I said I don't want to talk about it now!"

I ignored her angry outbursts, mildly surprised by them. "Are you not attracted to me? Is that why?"

Tears began to pool in her eyes as the short burst of anger drained away. "That has nothing to do with it. I'm attracted to you. I _want_ you."

"Then why don't you take me?" I asked in a hurt voice. I couldn't understand what she was telling me. I couldn't read between the lines. I could only think that she didn't want me or love me enough to make love to me. "I want you. I give myself to you. But you never take me."

"Because I'm _scared_, Van. Don't you understand?" she choked, tears falling down her cheeks, the light reflecting off them. She looked so fragile and small below me. And beautiful, always beautiful.

I shook my head, leaning against her forehead, pleading. "No, I don't understand. What are you scared of? Tell me."

"You wouldn't understand," she sobbed, breaking down in silent anguish. Sorry without reason for the words I'd said, I comforted her, stroked her hair, kissed away her tears, blathered about how sorry I was, whispered calming nothingnesses in her ear.

All the while thinking about how that was the second time that day she'd said I wouldn't understand.

oOo

Sleep came easily to Hitomi that night, even with her tossing, twitching, and turning. The day had certainly made me weary, I certainly wanted to go to sleep, yet sleep would not come to me; my mind would not shut off. At midnight, I found myself by the window, seeing but not registering the reflection of the moon and lights off the snow. Only one thought ran through my mind:

_Why is Hitomi scared?_

For the life of me I couldn't figure it out. It couldn't simply be the _"I'm scared, this is my first time, what does it feel like?_" fear, because that, in my mind, could not hold that acute of a grip on anyone. And it wasn't even a fear, really. If you were attracted to someone, you would definitely want them, no? So Hitomi didn't want me? But she'd said herself that she did, and I could tell from our current physical intimacy that she was telling the truth.

So what, then?

"Van?" I jumped at the sound of Hitomi's voice, quickly facing her to mask my surprise.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I asked innocently, kissing her forehead. "Go back to sleep."

"No, you didn't wake me. . . . Can't you sleep?" she asked tiredly. I guess her mind wouldn't shut off, either.

"No, I can't. But you should," I said, moving closer to put her back in bed. She, however, put a hand on my chest to stop me.

"It's because of me you can't sleep . . ."

"No--" I said, trying to interrupt her. But with her fingers on my lips, I gave up.

"I have something to tell you," she said lowly, darkly, sadly. Guiltily. "Something I should have told you a long while ago."

"Okay," I said, uncertainly.

Hitomi took a deep breath, closing her eyes to avoid my unblinking gaze. "I am not a virgin."

At first I wasn't sure if I'd heard her right. Hitomi, not a virgin? My innocent and naïve Hitomi, who was scared to have sex with me, had sex with another man? Then why the hell _not_ me? And why was she scared now? Had she fucking cheated on me or something, right under my lovesick nose? My thoughts went from flabbergasted to angry to questioning in only a matter of seconds. I couldn't say anything. I might have screamed if I did.

"I was raped."

All the thoughts I had prior to that statement hit a brick wall. Hitomi, raped? My _innocent_ and certainly _not naïve _Hitomi, scared to have sex with me because another man took advantage of her boundless kindness? Why hadn't she told me sooner? It explained some of the gaps in my reasoning. Like why she gave me a fearful look earlier. My thoughts went from shocked to questioning to sad and scared. Again, I couldn't say anything. I just couldn't believe I'd _assumed_ she was a virgin. (Forever remember that to assume makes an "ass" of "u" and "me.")

"I'm so sorry . . ." Hitomi said, backing away, face buried in her hands. She sobbed softly. "I'm sorry I never told you, Van. I'm sorry I never told you the reason I'm scared."

Silence.

"Say something," she choked. I stared at her hard, closing the gap between us to deliver a soft, yet passionate, kiss. It lingered in the air as she stifled another sob.

"Why? Why would anyone do such a thing to you?" was all I could think to ask.

She shrugged, moving towards the window, away from me. "He was a really nice guy."

"Obviously he was _not_ a really nice guy," I seethed, coming up behind her, draping my arms over her shoulders, fingers intertwining with hers.

Hitomi stayed silent for a moment, conforming, melting into my body unconsciously. "Maybe not. But when I first met him during freshman year at college, he seemed really nice. He was never popular, and not so good looking, and I think others teased him behind his back, but he always made me smile. He had some compelling cuteness about him. When he finally asked me out, I said yes. I think I sort of pitied him. But still, at eighteen, I thought I loved him. . . ." She trailed off, eyes fixed on the shimmering snow.

Directly into her ear, I whispered, "And then what happened?"

She turned to look me in the eyes for the first time that day. Hitomi's eyes, so exhausted, consumed, distressed, sucked me into their drowning reverie. With a sad smile, she continued. "I don't know what happened, exactly. I think somewhere in his heart he always wanted to be popular, to stop the teasing. Always wanted a girl to give him everything, to . . . obey him, for lack of a better word." She paused to collect her thoughts, skipping over what, I'm sure, were painful details. "The day seemed normal, you know? He invited me over, to study, he said. Of course I complied with something as simple as studying. We did that often. But when I walked through the door, he practically jumped me. It was so unexpected . . . it overwhelmed me."

Her body tightened against mine. "I told him to stop. I yelled 'no' over and over, but it didn't reach him. It didn't reach anybody. Instead he beat me, told me to shut up. He tied my hands behind my back, bound my feet together, gagged me, laid me on his couch. I don't know where his strength came from; I never believed him to be that strong. I never imagined he could take advantage of me. That day made me realize how weak I was. And foolish."

"You're not weak," I said soothingly, kissing her ear in utmost pain and love, "or foolish."

Hitomi gave me a genuine smile; it made my heart soar. "You only think that because you're a crazy lovesick puppy," she said playfully, giving me a teaser kiss. "And maybe I'm not so weak or so foolish anymore. But I was then."

I guess, as her smile faded into the darkness once again, I could only lighten the mood for so long.

"He kept me tied up, bleeding and naked and helpless, for five hours. He paced and paced his place when he wasn't . . . _concerned_ with me. Eventually he released me, just let me go, didn't threaten me about telling the police or anything. I think he realized he'd made a horrible mistake. I ran straight back to the dormitory and called the police. They arrested him, said he gave up without a fight. He expected them, I know. He even confessed to the crime outright. That's when I started to feel sorry for him again. It was just a lapse in his sanity . . . But I've feared him ever since, though he's in prison."

"This is why you're scared. Your mind is scarred."

"There's more," she said dryly. "I got pregnant."

My head jerked back in astonishment, the breath catching in my throat.

"Y-You . . ." I stuttered, trying to think my way through. "You had an abortion, right? And then everything was fine?"

"No." Hitomi shook her head lightly, her hair tickling my neck despite the situation. "I don't believe in abortions. They're the killings of innocent life."

"So?" I blurted incredulously. "You were _raped_."

"So?" she countered fiercely with a tint of sadness in her voice. "So I should punish the child for his stupidity? For my stupidity? It shouldn't live because of that? The rape wasn't the child's fault. It didn't deserve to be killed."

I wasn't so convinced, but I eased off, respecting Hitomi's fervent anti-abortionist beliefs. "Then what did you do? Put the child up for adoption?"

"No," she said flatly. "I wanted to keep the child."

I let out a frustrated breath. But I tried to keep my calm, if I had any calm left in me. Ominousness hung in the air. "What happened, then?"

She buried her face in my shirt and said nothing.

I knew for certain then that her child had died.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. Honestly, why is that the only thing we can say when others are sad? Why is that the only thing we can say when we don't know what to say? Even though I meant it, the phrase came out so hollow. I wanted to do something more, to say something more. But I ceded that I couldn't.

"I dropped out of school. I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to. I visited the doctors regularly. I did everything," she sobbed, her tears seeping through my shirt, making me cold, icing my heart. "Everything," she repeated angrily. I'd never seen Hitomi angry at the world. Her expression softened again quickly, etched in sorrow and loss. "I went into labor only two weeks before he was due. I hadn't known it was a boy until after I'd given birth. But by then he was already dead."

"A stillbirth," I said, feeling my eyes begin to water.

"A stillbirth," she repeated, unable to breathe.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I asked, salty, burning water trickling down my cheeks.

Still pressed to my chest, Hitomi gave a less than halfhearted laugh. "I told you, because I'm foolish. I wanted to get over my fears by myself. It's stupid to be scared of you, I know. I know it, but I can't get over it. And now we're engaged." She squeezed my hand. "I never expected that. I couldn't just tell you then, when you proposed. I should have, but I couldn't."

"You lied to me," I accused. "You lied to me about the pills."

"I didn't lie," she defended. "I just . . . didn't tell the whole truth."

"You said it had nothing to do with not trusting me."

She faltered and looked down at the ground. "So maybe I did lie to you . . . But I didn't mean to. When we were walking up the stairs, I fully intended to tell you the truth. Then . . . I couldn't."

"What about your family? The jokes they made about you? Why didn't they say anything? Did they lie, too? Or are you lying to me now?" I asked, angered and confused, sad and understanding, all at the same time.

"They didn't lie!" she growled, tapping into another of her bursts of anger. "They know not to bring up the subject. They respect who and when I want to tell people."

I let go of her to lean my forehead against the wall. This was way too much information, too many emotions to feel, for midnight. My head was spinning.

"Van, forgive me," she pleaded, wrapping her arms around my waist, nuzzling her head against my back. "Please."

"I can't believe you," I whispered, on the verge of crying again, leaning harder against the wall. "I can't fucking believe you, Hitomi."

"Van--"

I spun around, glaring her fiercely in the eye. There arose that fear again. "I can't believe, after all the crap you've taught me, that you never listened to your own goddamn advice."

oOo

No one woke up early the next day, another dark, cloudy, and cold day. Oddly enough, Hitomi woke up first. When I woke up at eight-- surprisingly, the second to awaken-- she was making breakfast for herself, or so I thought. Turned out the food was for me. But I felt exhausted and disheveled. And Hitomi looked it, too, as she cooked sluggishly, slightly hunched over. Her eyes, puffy and pink from crying, wouldn't spare me a glance. As Hitomi cooked in silence, Mamoru came downstairs, fully clothed for the day and looking extremely down.

Of the five of us, I figured Mamoru would be the most peppy; after all, virtually none of our fighting involved him in any way, shape, or form. But I suppose it was hard to be happy, when everyone else around him was sad. I knew how he felt.

"Sis, we should go sledding or have a snowball fight later."

At the time, I found his statement absurdly frivolous, but now I see that it was the perfect thing to say to pick us all up. To take our minds off things.

"Okay," Hitomi replied softly, bringing my breakfast over to where I sat at the table. We gave each other a small kiss on the lips in good morning. It certainly didn't feel like a good morning, after all.

"Then I want you to listen to a song the guys and I recorded a few weeks ago," Mamoru continued, ignoring and plowing through the lack of enthusiasm Hitomi and I showed each other. "Then we have to decorate the tree."

"Of course," Hitomi said with a smile, for her brother's sake.

"You, too, Van," Mamoru said threateningly. "I'm gonna knock the shit out of you with some big ass snowball."

"_Mamoru!_" Hitomi cried.

I laughed, a sincere laugh. "You're on."

oOo

Sleds and snowballs really did take our minds off of . . . well, just about everything. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had so much fun in the snow; I don't think I'd _ever_ had as much fun. Although Hitomi and I didn't say much to each other, we played together, childishly, taking cheap snowball shots at each other and pushing each other down the hill when we weren't prepared. Mamoru gathered what seemed like half the neighborhood kids together-- anywhere from ages six to sixteen-- and we had more of a snowball war than fight that went on for half the day.

When we went back to the house, none of us acknowledged Mr. and Mrs. Kanzaki. Instead, Mamoru dragged us instantly to his room, to listen to his music. As to be expected, his room was an utter mess-- magazines, CDs, candy wrappers, graded school work (and some ungraded), and God knows what else littered the floor. On the walls, pictures of various bands and singers were overwhelming. On the dresser, pictures of his own band and friends were framed. In the corner, a stand and an electric guitar sat haphazardly. But I'm sure Mamoru would never let anything happen to his precious guitar.

"Tell me what you think," he said simply, putting in one of what seemed like thousands of CDs scattered throughout the room. Hitomi and I sat down on his unmade bed, both of us wondering what his song (for me, his music in general) would sound like.

It started out with a simple drum beat, then added guitar chords as it got further in. After about fifteen seconds, Mamoru started to sing . . . (I'll admit, I had some difficulty understanding what he was singing. It had "screamo" and all that good junk, you know?)

_Hey girl, you know you drive me crazy._

_One look puts the rhythm in my head._

_Still I'll never understand why you hang around,_

_I see what's going down._

_Cover up with makeup in the mirror._

_Tell yourself it's never gonna happen again._

_You cry alone and then he swears he loves you._

(Chorus)

_Do you feel like a man when you push her around?_

_Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?_

_Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day, this world's going to end,_

_As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found._

I contemplated his chorus as the song went on.

_A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect;_

_Every action in this world will bear a consequence._

_If you wait around forever, you will surely drown._

_I see what's going down.

* * *

I see the way you go and say you're right again,_

_Say you're right again._

_Heed my lecture._

_

* * *

Do you feel like a man when you push her around?_

_Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?_

_Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day, this world's going to end,_

_As your lies crumble down, a new life she has found._

_

* * *

One day she will tell you that she has had enough._

_(It's coming round again.)_

(repeat)

* * *

_Do you feel like a man when you push her around?_

_Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?_

_Well, I'll tell you my friend, one day, this world's going to end,_

_As your lies crumble down, a new life she has . . ._

_

* * *

Face down in the dirt, _

_She said, "This doesn't hurt."_

_She said, "I've finally had enough."_

(repeat)

The song was less than three minutes long, and honestly sounded to me like half the stuff on the radio. But I actually really liked it. It had a good message. A very, very good and profound message. It's depth, in that teenage way, surprised me a bit, coming from Mamoru. But as I watched Mamoru and Hitomi, I don't know why any of that was surprising. As they looked at each other, I could see it. Even before that, I could sense it, knew exactly what inspired Mamoru to write the song.

They had a one in a million brother-sister bond.

oOo

The three of us just had pure fun putting ornaments and lights and beads on the Christmas tree. Mamoru was really into this Christmas thing; he was the one who hung all the decorations outside and everything. We argued over which ornament should go where and which lights to put on, so on and so forth, as classic Christmas carols, such as _Silent Night_, wafted through the house. Just really trivial things to pass the time and avoid the inevitable: talking to the parents.

Dinner was relatively simple (since Mrs. Kanzaki had cooked half of the food for Christmas already and didn't want to be bothered with too much extra cooking) and much quieter than usual. Hitomi finished first and proclaimed she had to take a shower (I couldn't believe she'd leave me hanging out to dry like that!). Mamoru talked to his parents, obviously taking their attention away from me. But there was no way of focusing Mrs. Kanzaki's on anything _other_ than me.

Mamoru went upstairs to do . . . whatever it was that he did; Mr. Kanzaki settled into the couch to read.

Mrs. Kanzaki ignored the dishes and came to talk to me, for I still sat at the table, blanking out.

"Van, we need to talk," she began, sitting directly across from me. I couldn't help but see the resemblance she and Hitomi shared; Mrs. Kanzaki appeared to be a older version of Hitomi, with darker hair and more wrinkles, less pep, all that good stuff that happens as we age.

"Okay."

"First, I want to say I'm sorry."

"Okay . . . I don't know exactly what for, but I forgive you."

She stared at me as if I were an alien. "So easily?"

I scratched my head absently. "I don't recall ever being truly angry with you."

"But . . . what I said about you was mean and untrue."

I shrugged. "It's not the first time someone's said something degrading and untrue about me. Besides, your opinion doesn't change the fact that I love your daughter. And it doesn't change the fact that she loves me, either."

Mrs. Kanzaki considered what I'd said. "You love her . . ."

"With all my heart," I said honestly.

She smiled slowly at me. "I guess I'll just have to accept it."

"I guess so," I said equally.

"But one thing, Van," she said sternly. "Two things, actually."

"Yes?"

"One, you really must call me Mom," she said with a rueful smile, "and two, you shouldn't think so little of yourself."

I smiled at her statement. "Hitomi would tell me the same thing."

"What would Hitomi tell you?" Hitomi asked, standing on the stairs with hands on her hips, probably chafed that I was conferring with the enemy.

"Oh, nothing," I said sweetly, walking slowly up the stairs. "I was just saying how Hitomi would tell me that she loves me, and then I'd say the same mushy thing back, and then we'd have to have this mushy kiss, because we're just so mushy like that."

Hitomi's eyes lit with love for the first time that day, her bitter feelings melting away. "Okay then, Mister Van Fanel, I love you."

"Aw, really? That's so sweet," I said gaily. "But I love you more."

"Uh huh," she nodded, stroking the back of my neck. "Whatever, just give me my mushy kiss, Romeo."

Like I would fight with that.

oOo

On Christmas morning, I wanted to wake up first. Unfortunately, Mamoru beat me to the punch. And since Mamoru beat me to the punch, Mr. and Mrs. Kanzaki beat me to the punch, too (Mamoru simply couldn't wait and had to wake them up, after all). And since Hitomi always woke up relatively early anyway, even she beat me. So I ended up being last (story of my life, don't you think?).

First and foremost, we had to open presents. Well, the Kanzaki's had to open presents (talk about being left out). Mamoru opened his presents first, which consisted mostly of CDs, video games, and clothes. Mr. and Mrs. Kanzaki exchanged gifts, and both Mamoru and Hitomi gave them little things (can you guess what Mamoru gave them?). When it came to Hitomi's turn, there was very little to open (since she never asked for anything). Her parents gave her money and clothes, while Mamoru gave her a homemade CD, full of her favorite songs.

For once proud to be last, I held out a little box for her to take, neatly wrapped in that really shiny red wrapping paper, with a stick-on green bow on top; she simply stared at it.

"Open it," I whined, pressing it to the palm of her hand and closing her fingers around it.

"_Van_, we weren't supposed to get each other anything!" she cried, pushing the box back into my chest. I gave her a candy-coated smile.

"You told me that after I bought it for you."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"What fun would that have been? I would've bought you something anyway."

"Take it back!" she insisted. I gave her the sad, puppy-eyed face.

"But I can't, no refunds," I lied. Well, not exactly a lie. I just didn't know whether I could or not. (I'm just not telling the "whole truth," right?)

She sighed, defeated. "You stupid, stupid man," she growled, carefully peeling off the paper, like it were something special. Inside was an old jewelery box I scrounged up (don't ask me where I got a jewelery box from! And not that it wasn't jewelery, of course). She gave me a sideways glance that said _I can't believe you spent money on me after I told you not to, you fucking bastard, I'm going to kick your balls later._ (As you may expect, she didn't quite think in those terms, but it brightens my day to type that.)

At the sight of the pendant, however, she stopped glaring daggers at me.

"It's beautiful," Hitomi said, letting the gold chain dangle between her fingers. The pendant itself was pink and tear-shaped, crafted to perfection. One good swing would have it keeping rhythmic time. I believed it fit Hitomi impeccably.

Taking it off her hands and putting it dutifully around her neck, I leaned back to observe her. All the other Kanzaki's, I noticed, had their eyes on us, too. "Hm, it looks even more beautiful on you. Your beauty now blinds me, princess."

Calling her princess never failed at bringing out a blush. She giggled, grabbing a fist full of my shirt and pulling me in for a slow, passionate, arousing kiss. I could hear Mamoru pretending to gag in the corner.

"I'll get you back later," she whispered so that only I could hear.

oOo

"Wow, I can't believe Hitomi actually has a boyfriend," seemed to be the phrase of the day. Seriously, we were like the hot-topic of conversation in this convention of Kanzaki's. I met everyone-- aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins-- and they acted like I was some spectacle. Hitomi stayed by my side for most of the introductions, or tried to. She, too, seemed really embarrassed, and had to help her mother with food preparations. But I didn't care about the embarrassment so much; I only worried about why Hitomi still distanced herself, if only slightly, from me. My mind, however, had little opportunity to dwell on that.

Before dinner, I was occupied with the adults, asking me the same old questions about myself, blah blah blah (we've been through this before, have we not?). Her grandparents, they were very nice (even on her mother's side) and were mostly concerned with my character; the uncles, concerned with my career and financial standings; the aunts, with the sheer romance of it all.

Dinner came, at the time, much to my relief. Hitomi and I sat next to each other, somewhat in the middle of the dinner table, that, although quite large, would not sit most of the family. Despite this, Sadato, waiting until everyone had gathered around, ceremoniously told us to "get out of those chairs! You're sitting at the head of the table!" as he hauled and shoved us to the front.

"Dad, why do we--" Hitomi began, cut off by her father.

"Hitomi and Van have an announcement to make."

Hitomi and I gave each other the _oh God, what do we do, what do we do?_ look as the room fell into a hushed silence.

"Well, say it," Mr. Kanzaki said with a nudge to my shoulder. I merely reverted my attention to Hitomi again, who sighed.

"Um . . . Well, Van isn't really my boyfriend," Hitomi began awkwardly. Everyone remained completely still and attentive, except Mamoru, who looked ready to attack all the food. For support, she hugged my arm, leaned against my shoulder. "Van is my fiancé."

Silence, then squeals of delight erupted from aunts and female cousins. We were instantly swamped by congratulations, hugs, kisses, and tons of questions. So much for dinner being tranquil and not embarrassing.

For the rest of the night I hung out with Hitomi's nine cousins (four boys, five girls), all of them no younger than thirteen and no older than Hitomi. Mamoru landed pretty much in the middle, in terms of age, with his cousins, and, of course, was the most popular one. His girlfriend, Angela, came over for dinner as well, and clung to him as if super glued. She was sexy, I admit, wearing tight, form-fitting jeans and a glittery red shirt, topped with a Santa hat. But, in my undying love, I preferred to look at Hitomi, who was wearing a white skirt that came to just above the knees and a tight, red shirt.

The best part, though, was that she was cuddled in my lap, resting her head in the crook of my neck as everyone began to talk again. Next to us sat Emiko, the youngest cousin, who, as most thirteen-year-old girls are, was extremely interested in Hitomi's love life and looked up to Hitomi, since she was the oldest. Of course, Emiko talked to me, too, and asked me how Hitomi and I had met.

"All lasting couples have good meeting stories," Emiko said sagely, her brown eyes boring into mine, and curly, chocolate brown curls bobbing as she nodded.

"I think we have a good meeting story, right, Hitomi?"

"If by good, you mean _interesting_, then yes," Hitomi agreed smartly.

"Tell me," Emiko said, giving me her full, undivided attention.

"Hm, well, it was a rainy day, the first day of my bus driving career, and I was really cranky. I was almost at the end of my route when your cousin, sprinting in her yellow poncho before I pulled away, boarded the bus. The fact that I had to wait for her annoyed me, but then she held up the bus even more since she had no money. I demanded that she get off, but she got me with her whole 'I'm going to help orphaned children!' spiel. Then she just wouldn't shut up on the ride there," I said, rolling my eyes in mock-exasperation. Hitomi pushed my face away playfully before I went on.

"So, this routine of ours went on . . . well, it still goes on . . . and these days she has bus tokens," I said, flustered, wondering where to go from there.

"When did you start dating?" Emiko asked, to get my brain cells flowing again.

"Have fun explaining this one," Hitomi said with an evil grin.

"Er . . . well, one day Hitomi foolishly brought this other guy on the bus. He made me quite jealous. So, in the orphanage parking lot, I beat the living daylights out of him. For some reason, your cousin found that okay and forgave me and then asked me to go on a date. On our date, she made me go stargazing, because she's crazy," I concluded. "But if she weren't crazy, I probably wouldn't have fallen so hard for her," I added, just to be all smooth and whatnot.

Emiko seemed ready to say more when Mamoru asked the group, "Who wants some music? And not this same old Christmas crap."

And he's the one who loved Christmas, huh?

"Put on something of yours," Angela said sweetly.

"Of course," Mamoru said, as if there were no question about it. "The guys and I wrote this song just to be catchy and whatever. Good to sing along to."

He didn't put it on too loud, so as not to disturb the adults, although some of them seemed interested in Mamoru's music. Again, the song started off with a simple drum beat, then added guitars and vocals. I have to admit, it was pretty catchy. Not deep or anything like the last one . . . but catchy and friendly, none-the-less.

_Gotta rock'n'roll romance_

_Tearin' up the chart again_

_What a feeling I missed_

_(I can't wait to get back in the swing of this.)_

_Runnin' by devotion_

_Fueled by emotion_

_We're never giving up now_

_(Tie me down to the sidewalk gently)_

(Chorus)

_The same old street_

_We walked last night_

_We rock this show_

_'Til the morning light_

_'Cause you're my life_

_My love, my friend_

_I'll be with you 'til forever ends._

We all sang along with the chorus the second and third time.

_The same old street_

_We know it well_

_We live our life_

_We forget our hell_

_This is a place_

_Where we run our lives_

_With all our friends_

_We make things right_

Mamoru put on a couple more of his songs, to the delight of his family, until the interest died away. Turning the stereo down, Mamoru removed his CD, then seemed to contemplate what to do. Finally, he asked, "Hitomi, where's the CD I gave you?"

"By the tree. Why?"

Mamoru retrieved the CD, placing it in the player. "'Cause you like all that soft junk, so I made you a CD full of your favorite soft songs. I figure it'll be nice background music."

Hitomi laughed. "Whatever you say."

I'm so happy he did.

Emiko had lost interest in Hitomi and I, and, as the first track began to play, we were left in our own little world for the first time that night. The song really did begin slowly, with a peaceful, somehow sad, mix of instruments, especially the piano. Instant recognition registered in Hitomi's eyes, as she whispered into my ear, "This is my favorite song."

I listened intently, the people around me, except for Hitomi, disappearing.

_She'll let you in her house_

_If you come knockin' late at night_

_She'll let you in her mouth_

_If the words you say are right_

_If you pay the price_

_She'll let you deep inside_

_But there's a secret garden she hides_

Lulled into a trance-like state, I picked Hitomi up, placing her deftly on the floor. She didn't seem to find this odd until I held out a hand, asking her to dance. She stared at me for a moment, as if seeing me for the first time, before breaking into a small smile, accepting my offer, noticeably touched by my random act of romance. Although we never went dancing, Hitomi followed my lead well, knowing and matching my slow steps. In a matter of seconds, everyone in the room had quieted to watch us, drowning in our own sea of young love. We didn't even notice.

_She'll let you in her car_

_To go drivin' 'round_

_She'll let you into the parts of herself_

_That'll bring you down_

_She'll let you in her heart_

_If you got a hammer and a vise_

_But into her secret garden, don't think twice_

Somehow, we didn't crash into anything. Due to all the guests in the house, Mamoru and I had rearranged most of the furniture in the living room, creating a wide open space where the table had once been. Burying my face in Hitomi's hair, I lost myself in the scent of her, wishing that this one moment in time would never stop. She lightly kissed my collarbone, a small gesture that meant the world to me. With arms around her waist, I pulled her closer to me, as close as I could manage without stifling her, close enough that I could feel the methodic beating of her heart, could feel the pendant resting between her breasts. And still it wasn't anywhere near close enough. I feared nothing would ever be close enough.

_You've gone a million miles_

_How far'd you get?_

_To that place where you can't remember_

_And you can't forget?_

The words of the song were touching, so expected of something Hitomi valued so highly. They reflected her, just as tenderness, understanding, and shimmering love reflected in her eyes, mixing with unsprung tears of happiness. I kissed her lips delicately, mouthing _I love you._

_She'll lead you down a path_

_There'll be tenderness in the air_

_She'll let you come just far enough_

_So you know she's really there_

_Then she'll look at you and smile_

_And her eyes will say_

_She's got a secret garden_

_Where everything you want_

_Where everything you need_

_Will always stay_

_A million miles away_

When the music stopped, Hitomi and I simply held each other, cheers, claps, and whoops bringing us out of our stupor. Hitomi hid in me, thoroughly embarrassed and red, while I just smiled, satisfied, reveling in my moment of triumph.

"Hitomi," Mrs. Kanzaki called sweetly. As if on auto-response, Hitomi and I turned our heads, and were met with a blinding flash.

_"Mom,_" Hitomi whined, completely embarrassed again. Some family members laughed.

"You'll thank me later," Mrs. Kanzaki said briskly.

I put a finger under Hitomi's chin, making her look up at me. "It's okay," I whispered, moving in for a true kiss. I knew she applied my statement to the picture only. But that wasn't what I'd meant at all.

"Hey, hey, _hey_, no tongue, Van, there are virgin eyes here!" Mamoru exclaimed, as I was about to really sink in to the kiss.

_"Mamoru,"_ Hitomi said, laughing, head falling against my chest in utter defeat.

oOo

When Hitomi says she'll get you back, God, she'll get you back.

"Can we stop at your place first? I really have to go to the bathroom," Hitomi said on our late Monday night car ride home. Even with an entire day to rest, it was hard to overcome the fatigue of fighting, revelations, family, loud music, spontaneous pictures, and mind-numbing love. I glanced at her tiredly, really wishing I could sink into bed as quickly as possible, but respecting the urges of her bladder at the same time.

"Sure," I replied, making a left, only a block away from my apartment.

Since I would be home for a few minutes, I took my things out of the car. Hitomi, for some reason, brought in her backpack.

I placed my bag on the bed, then returned to the couch. I waited as Hitomi went to the bathroom for a minute. Then two. Then three. Then five. Then eight. Then ten. Finally, wondering if she'd fallen asleep or something on the toilet, I knocked on the door.

"Hitomi? Are you okay?" I asked, worried.

In response, she opened the door. And there she stood, perfectly unharmed, completely awake, wearing nothing but a lacey bra and frilly underwear.

Suddenly, I was completely awake, my eyes wandering the body I'd so longingly desired. Now, seeing her, tender skin exposed, womanly curves enticing, my brain did a back flip, then shut down. As she hugged me, placing my hands on her hips, all my wants and needs flooded back tenfold.

"H-H-Hitomi," I stammered. She was already nipping my neck, hand under my shirt, sliding up my chest. Driving me over the edge, causing me to plummet, until a net of sanity caught me. I stiffened involuntarily.

"This is what you want, right?" she whispered, looking up at me. Her voice was so small. And her eyes sparkled with water.

Sparkled with fear.

I cupped her face, shaking my head fiercely. "No. No, this isn't what I want. Not if you don't want it. Not if you're scared."

"I'm not scared," she proclaimed defiantly, clinging to fist-fulls of my shirt, hands trembling. "I'm not scared . . . I want you. I want you to take me."

I admired her stark determination, but still, "Hitomi . . ." She cut me off with a tonsil-mashing kiss.

"I want you," she persisted, trying to convince herself more than me. "Make me see that," she pleaded with me.

Even nice guys like me can only hold out for so long. Sweeping her off her feet, I carried her slowly to my bedroom. "If that's what you really want, because God, that's what _I_ really want," I consented, shutting and locking the door behind me.

**AN: -dies- This chapter is FOREVER (by my standards). And to think, this is an _added_ chapter. I'm very glad I added it. This story would be so incomplete without it. But, I'll admit, the whole Hitomi being raped thing . . . yeah, that was not in the original planning. So . . . I had to remove and reword things from chapter seven to make that spontaneous plot twist fit (from the birth control scene). Sorry if that's . . . I dunno, just, sorry about that? -confused- (if you find any contradictions, let me know, I'll fix them immediately.)  
**

**Alright, let's talk about the music . . .**

**Song one (the one Mamoru wanted Hitomi to hear): "Face Down" by _The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_. This song was number one or something on LetSingIt's chart, so I downloaded it (yeah, I'm susceptible like that). I think it's popular on MTV right now or something. At first, I thought it was pretty weird, but then, it got stuck in my head, and I thought it was really catchy. Eventually, as this chapter fell into place, I saw it as a piece to the puzzle. It really is a good song, especially if you're into bands and screamo and all that good stuff. (I repeated the chorus because that was the most important part.)**

**Song two (random Mamoru song): "The Timing and the Season" by _Finding Westerly_. I cut out a verse and didn't write out the chorus each time because this song was basically a segue into the next scene. But still, it's a good song! _Finding Westerly_ is a MySpace band with two EP's out. They're really catchy and fan-friendly. If ever you get the chance, you should check them out, add them to your friends list, and love them!**

**Song three (Hitomi's favorite song): "Secret Garden" by _Bruce Springsteen_. Yes, I'm sure most of us know who Bruce Springsteen is. This song was made for the _Jerry Maguire_ movie, I believe. And, in my mind, it reflected Hitomi's inner fears of a sexual relationship. It really is very beautiful and sad-sounding. A must-listen! (It was either this song, or "Dancing in the Dark," hehe.)  
**

**I understand it's hard to fully enjoy this chapter without having heard the songs, but . . . well, I want to help you with that. Of course, for _Finding Westerly_ and _RJA_, you could go on MySpace. But, if you trust me (haha), you can IM me on MSN or AIM, and I'll send you whichever song you want :D. My contact information is in my profile. **

**Of course, if you don't want to do either of those two things, you could always download them illegally (or legally) yourself XD (_Finding Westerly _lets you download the song legally :D). I'm not gonna lie, my computer is a haven for illegal music. I just can't help it . (Forgive me!)**

**-Taps fingers together nervously- So, you finally got to see what type of music Mamoru writes. What did you think? I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, for, as you know, there are only two chapters left :(. And next chapter . . . er, well, next chapter will DEFINITELY not be as long as this one. Actually, it might only be half the length. But don't expect any fast updates. I'm getting so behind on my summer school work. And next chapter . . . has a lot of emotional things in it, and action-y things, that I'll probably need a bit of time to write.**

**And I'm sorry, but I won't be able to review reply to all of you this chapter :(. I promise I will next chapter, even if it's the death of me. I'm really, really sorry! You know I love you all dearly, right? Oh well, I'll say it again, for emphasis. I luff you all:)  
**

**Well, until next time, then?**

**-Spirit0**


	10. Snow Stained Purity

Last Stop

**AN: Alright, well, here we go, the second to last chapter of LS! I don't really have all that much to say, except, of course, thanks to all my wonderful readers/reviewers, sorry for my lateness, and, uh . . . I promise there's less cheese in this chapter, haha. (But . . . Well, I can't tell you. You gotta read!) And I've been talking to myself like a crazed lunatic XX. Wah.**

Chapter Ten: Snow Stained Purity

The high-pitched screeching of the alarm jolted me from my slumber. I mumbled something unintelligible, wondering when I had set the alarm, why I was so tired, and why my neck sort of tickled. My brain sent a signal to my arm, telling it to move; I felt soft flesh as it carried out the task. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, my eyes snapped open, and I remembered everything about the night and understood my slothfulness.

"How do you turn off this thing?" Hitomi muttered wearily, reaching out for the alarm and pressing random buttons in the dark. Deftly, wanting so badly to make that damn beeping stop, I reached over Hitomi and pressed the off button. Precariously, she set the clock back down, then rolled over to face me. I could barely see her in the pitch black that always permeated my room.

"Why'd you set that thing?" Hitomi murmured, shifting closer to me. Her bare body felt warm as it leaned into mine, slowly waking and intoxicating me all over again.

"I'm supposed to go to work, remember?" I said with a yawn, stretching my arms and legs. Hitomi flopped her head on my chest, her arm laying lazily over my stomach.

"I told you to take off," she stated, in that "see, I _told_ you so!" voice (and so early in the morning, too).

I gave a fake smile, though I knew she couldn't see it, as I rummaged around with one hand for my pants on the floor (after all, most of the clothes that had to come off were my own). Hitomi slid onto the bed when I sat up to put them on. Her hand on my back caused me to turn around.

"You're not really going to work, are you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not. But I have to call out. I'll be right back," I said, gently squeezing her hand before releasing it, standing up, and walking to the door. The light I had turned on the night before in the living room still blazed, initially blinding me. Looking around, I noticed my apartment had even more clutter than usual, but I also felt this new aura about it; like, for once, I was actually glad to live here. I felt safe. I felt I could call it home.

Picking up the phone, I punched in the bus company's number (don't ask why I had it memorized, I just did, okay?), rubbing sleep from my eyes. Someone picked up and said hello on the other end. "Yeah, hi," I said weakly, throwing in a cough for good measure. "This is Van Fanel. I'm afraid I can't come in today. I'm very sick." I coughed again, only this time, it was almost real.

_"Okay Mr. Fanel, we will find a substitute driver for you."_

"Thank you. Good bye," I said hoarsely, hanging up the phone quickly. Yes, that phone conversation was entirely too quick and unconvincing, but screw it. Walking back into the bedroom, I noticed Hitomi had gotten up to go to the bathroom and had left the light on, with the door cracked. I guess she couldn't take the impenetrable darkness.

"Do you want this door open, too?" I asked.

"No. That's too much light," was the muffled response.

After closing the door, I crawled back into bed, facing Hitomi with a smirk, finally able to see her slightly. "You don't know. Maybe you're a lights on type gal."

"You're so dirty," Hitomi said playfully.

"It's your fault I'm so _dirty_," I continued.

"_Van,_" she whined. "That's just mean."

"Okay, okay," I said, placing light butterfly kisses on her lips, thinking about how I had so ravaged them only a few hours before. "I'm sorry." More kisses. "I didn't mean it," I said, working down to her neck., smiling coyly. "But we could always take a shower . . ."

"Shut up," Hitomi whispered, kissing my lips softly before snuggling against my shoulder. "And besides, all my stuff is still in your car."

"Oh . . . yeah," I replied awkwardly. "Want me to go get it?"

Hitomi shook her head. "I don't want you to go anywhere," she whispered.

The statement normally would have made me smile at the sweetness of it, but my mind stayed focused, serious (as if we were serious before). "What about your pills?" I asked worriedly.

Laughing quietly, already drifting back into slumber, Hitomi pressed her lips to my bare shoulder, running her hand from my stomach, to my chest, to end stroking my lips with her thumb; it sent chills of delight down my spine . . . yet also caused distraught. "It's okay if I miss one . . . I've been on them long enough. But your worrying is cute," she said, allowing her arm to fall limply over my chest, breath steadying.

_Yes . . . you've been on them long enough, _I thought, kissing her hair, replying with a muffled, "Yes, cute . . ." My eyes would not shut, for now my mind would not turn off, thinking of Hitomi's lie. The lie. She had _lied_ to me. And I had _forgiven_ her with the snap of a finger.

Or had I?

It's so stupid. It's so stupid that I believed Hitomi to be perfect, that no sadness had traumatized her during her life. Sure, she had to have small sadnesses, small flaws, because everyone has that, but those could be easily forgotten. Sure, maybe a relative or a friend had died, and she'd sobbed at the loss of them, pined for them. But I never fathomed rape, much less a lost child. I never imagined it was something deeper than a fear of intimacy that held her body resigned from mine, never saw the problem as a complete phobia of sex. And I never imagined it because Hitomi had locked it away in her heart, always smiled at me, always dodged the question, always lied. Always lied. She lied about it. She lied to me. She lied from the very beginning, from that very first date, as she probed me, searching for _my_ secrets, while locking hers away deep in a safe, burying them with smiles designed to court me, and at the same time throw me off her trail.

_Hitomi lied to me._

Thoughts such as these echoed in the back of my mind even as I made love to her the night before. But these thoughts, too, they were stupid. The rape occurred long before I ever met Hitomi. It had nothing to do with me, except for the fact that it scarred her, prohibiting us from physical intimacy. And, although it was horrible to think such ways, if Hitomi had a child of her own, would I have ever met her? Probably not. Even if I had, would I have dated her? Not a chance. Would I have lived my life a grouch? Most likely. So wasn't it all good, in the end? Yes.

But still . . .

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Hitomi whispered, almost inaudibly. I stared at her, unperturbed by her voice cutting into my thoughts; on the contrary, I welcomed the intrusion. But I was disturbed that I hadn't felt her move away from me, so that her head rested on the pillow, her eyes fixed on me. They held a knowing within them . . . a sadness.

"What? What bothers me?" I asked quietly.

"My confession . . . it bothers you . . . how we ended up here together . . . bothers you . . ." she whispered.

"No it doesn't," I said, sounding as though I was trying to convince myself.

"Now you're the one who's lying."

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, sensing Hitomi's staunch defense. "Isn't it typical that I would lie?" I murmured.

"What's that mean? That it's okay for _you_ to lie, but it's wrong if _I_ do?" Hitomi asked fiercely.

"No," I said immediately, mentally banging my head against the wall for my poor choice of words. "It's just . . . _more _typical that I would lie, but that doesn't make it okay . . . because it's not okay. But it's not okay for you to lie, either . . . Is this how you felt when I kept things from you?" I inquired.

"Maybe. But what you feel is probably so much worse, because there's something more to it," she said, snuggling against my neck. "And I know that sorry isn't good enough."

Her words clicked in my head. "I thought I knew you," I whispered.

I'll never forget how Hitomi leaned over me then, her face practically touching mine, so close I could feel her steady breath, could see the dolor in her eyes, registered the tenderness of her bare body resting against mine. There was nothing between us, mentally or physically; our thoughts, our secrets, our desires, our losses, they could all be read like an open book. Playfully, she nudged my face with hers, so that every word she spoke was a light kiss, so that I didn't hear her message, but rather, I absorbed it. "You do know me, Van. You knew before. Now you know me better than anyone. And I know you, Van. I know you better than anyone."

_Yes_, I mouthed, pressing the word into her, finding it unnecessary to speak. Hitomi's gaze mesmerized me, held me in a trance-like state, as she continued.

"I love you. I love you, even though I disagree with you sometimes. I love you even when you hurt me, because I know you have flaws. I have flaws, too. Our love has flaws. But you still love me, don't you?"

_Yes,_ I mouthed as Hitomi kissed me.

"Do you forgive me?"

As I kissed her, I pinned her beneath me before audibly answering, "Yes."

oOo

To say that the next two months of my life were great would be an understatement.

They were almost perfect.

Reveling in the new openness in our relationship after the Christmas revelation, Hitomi and I saw more and more of each other, as our love continued to mature. Most weekends Hitomi stayed with me rather than in her dorm. Even during the day, as I wrote articles for the newspaper, Hitomi would generally stay, doing her own schoolwork quietly, puttering around cleaning up my sloppy apartment, or doting over me and distracting me as I worked. Sometimes she would go out (despite the cold) with Yukari and Merle for "girl time" (you know, shopping, gossiping, getting hair done, all that good stuff). And at night, as I watched Hitomi sleep peacefully by my side, I pondered about what our life would be like in the future, married, living together on a full-time basis. Within the blissful cocoon of love that surrounded me, I could see a bright, happy future; but the more realistic, dreary side of me knew this notion was, somehow, terrifically wrong.

Hitomi's friends and I became very close, as happens with most couples. From time to time, we'd have a little get together, just sitting around and talking (and drinking). Most of our conversations ended in silliness, but I found the change of pace refreshing; for the first time in a long while, I had friends, people I could trust and goof around with, and count on when life takes those curves a little too fast.

Talks of adopting Hana managed to pop into our conversations a score of times. Just as Hitomi and I had drawn closer to each other, Hana, too, became ever more attached to us. Playing and talking with her, I knew it was somehow wrong of me to favor her over the other children, but I couldn't help myself. The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to get her out of the orphanage. Hitomi, respecting her duties as a social worker, tried to divide her time evenly between the children and doing paper work; she, too, found this a hard task.

"The three of you look like a family," Dryden commented airily one day, that omniscient smirk plastered on his face. Hitomi and I stared at each other, our eyes asking questions and perceiving the answers, while Hana gazed up at us expectantly. Instead of voicing our thoughts, Hitomi and I just smiled, continuing our short walk across the room, standing on either side of Hana, holding hands. Truthfully, we had no idea where the future would take us, but we just found it fun to mess with Dryden's mind.

Perhaps most surprisingly, Hitomi undertook a waitressing job on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday evenings to help save money for the wedding. Although I argued that she didn't have to do this, since having a job cut into spending time at the orphanage and spending time with me, she dismissed anything I said with heated determination. After a few nasty fights, I pretty much dropped the subject, letting Hitomi do whatever she wanted, though I could tell school, her job, and her volunteer work gradually began to take their toll.

Often I wish she had taken the time to slow down.

oOo

_"A severe snowstorm will head in later today, around three this afternoon. Blizzard-like conditions are expected, with a snowfall rate at times of two inches per hour. The storm will move out tomorrow morning, leaving behind up to twenty inches of snow. Avoid driving, if possible, to allow road crews to plow and salt the roads."_

Such was the weather forecast for Wednesday, February 26th. Sleepily, I grumbled under my breath, cursing the foul weather and preparing myself for the chaotic day ahead. People were so very foolish in the snow-- they either drove unbearably slow, getting themselves stuck, or drove far too fast, unable to stop in time, making an even bigger mess than before . . . and often ending in tragedy. I sourly hoped that I wouldn't run into any such headaches that day.

But we all know luck doesn't favor me much, now does it?

The snow clouds had already begun to roll in, drifting along ominously, toying with everyone's minds, as they watched the skies and scrambled to get all their daily tasks done before the snow began to fall. Just driving to work I encountered more traffic than usual, and resorted to cursing and horn honking more than once. Ever since that day, I decided that snow was fun to play in, but a bitch for just about everything else.

Late upon arrival, I hastily prepared for the long nine or so hours ahead. The air in the station seemed heavier, more frantic than usual, as other various workers bustled along, all talking lowly to one another about the oncoming snow. Some seemed enthusiastic about it, as snow lovers, while others, like me, did nothing but complain and speculate about the horrific work day ahead. I always thought it was interesting, how people get so worked up over the weather, and how much the weather really does affect our lives. I've come to the conclusion that, as human beings, we sometimes hate and fear the weather because we cannot control it, and often times, we cannot predict the severity of its will.

Before heading out, I stumbled across my boss, who looked cold without a jacket as he walked across the lot. He gave me a cheerful smile as I approached him, despite his chill, and I hesitantly smiled back, for the boss usually didn't come in so early anymore; but again, the weather affects everything.

"You be careful out there today," he said briskly. "If it's as bad as they say it's going to be, listen for the call to come back. We'll have to shut down, with the predicted snowfall rate."

"I'll be waiting for the call."

He gave a small laugh. "Remember, be careful. I know you're a good driver, and I trust you. But you be wary of other drivers. It only takes one idiot to cause a traffic jam."

I laughed halfheartedly. "Too true."

"Take care, Van."

"You, too."

oOo

For a little while, before the snow came, everything went fine; although there was more traffic, less people boarded the bus. As soon as the first flake fell, however, all the idiots seemed to hop into their cars, with a bumper sticker that read "I CAN'T DRIVE FOR SHIT." If I wasn't desperately trying to stop the bus to prevent crashing into some I-randomly-stop-because-it's-snowing idiot, I was stuck behind someone going ten miles per hour. The steering wheel tempted me to run into a pole numerous times; anything to get off the roads.

By the end of my shift, all the buses were being called back, for over three inches of snow had fallen and the snow fall continued to increase. At the past few stops, no one had even been waiting; but with a sinking feeling, I somehow knew Hitomi would be waiting faithfully, freezing and snow covered, for me to pick her up. Against orders, I did not go directly back to the station, and instead traveled along the near-deserted roads, until the next stop came into few.

And sadly, I was right.

She boarded, bundled tightly yet shivering slightly, as she would on any other day, giving me a smile, practically hidden by her hood, and dropping a token into the slot before sitting down across from me.

"You _are_ insane," I confirmed to myself.

"What?" Hitomi asked, pulling down her hood to allow her hair to fall freely.

"Get off and go back to your dorm," I growled, an eerie feeling sweeping over me, sitting on the bus, illuminated only by the artificial light and ethereal glow of the snow.

"No."

"Hitomi--"

"Why can't I go home with you? You have to drive to the station anyway," Hitomi said, no hint of anger or stubbornness in her voice. For the first time I noticed how worn out she looked, her eyes dull and shadowed; or perhaps the lights were deceiving me.

"Won't you have school tomorrow?" I asked, more softly.

"Can't I miss a day?" she asked, laced with exasperation.

Like the sympathetic sop I was, I grudgingly shut the door, waiting as she took her seat. At first, the bus wouldn't move, stuck in a drift of snow, and for a second I panicked, only to have the bus lurch forward with a start. Once back on the main road, the snow level evened out slightly, and yet it was obvious the layers were steadily growing. By now, the falling snow covered most of my vision; without the street lamps and the lights of businesses, and the fading tire tracks on the road, I probably would've been hopelessly lost; I knew I'd made a terrible mistake in waiting so long to head back. I drove extremely slow, almost like the idiots I hated, full of anxiety, doubled by the fact that Hitomi sat with her face in her hands, looking disturbingly desolate.

"What's wrong?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice, trying to sound wholeheartedly concerned for my ailing fiancée, and failing miserably.

"Tired," Hitomi whispered, allowing her hand to fall from her face. In the shadows of the night and the reflection of the snow, she looked deathly pale, with hollowed and lifeless eyes that made my heart ache. "I want to go home," she said in a pained whine.

"Shh," I said, as though trying to quell a distressed child. "We're going home--" the word fell awkwardly on my tongue, for it seemed wrong and yet enthralling, that Hitomi should consider my apartment home, "-- and then I'll put you to bed, and then you can go to sleep for as long as you want." Then, to comfort myself, I said, with a small smile, "My princess is sick because she wouldn't listen to her prince."

But Hitomi would not follow my path. "I'm not cut out for the real world."

"That's not true," I said gently, "You've just completely worn yourself out in the dead of winter, and now you're sick."

"I am not sick," came her weak, resilient growl.

"You are sick, you silly girl," I growled back, as I debated whether or not to actually stop for the red light that I could barely make out through the white death that swirled about the windshield. My mind fretfully thought of how I would get stuck in the snow if I came to a stop, or how I might get hit by some other lunatic who was driving on the road if I ran the light; the lawful side of me, reluctantly, won, as I began to stop the bus, giving an involuntary start when Hitomi's cold hand brushed my cheek. I stared at her wide eyed as she stood next to me; she appeared to be the embodiment of living death.

"Do I really look that bad?" she asked, shivering. On impulse, I took her freezing hand and kissed it, giving it a squeeze of reassurance.

"No, you look so much worse," I whispered honestly. "Now sit down and put your gloves back on, please."

To the ease of my mind, she complied, but rather than sitting down across from me, she took a seat behind me, where it was harder for me to see her, which made me feel guilty for my comment; however, I said nothing.

The light changed to green, and yet I hesitated before pulling out slowly to make the turn. No cars were in my line of vision at the moment. The bus was moving forward, seemingly perfectly fine, until about halfway through the turn, when I ran into another snow drift that halted my forward progress. Cursing under my breath, I pressed the accelerator, causing the wheels to turn with a light screeching, yet going nowhere. In the distance I registered the onslaught of another vehicle's headlights, traveling perpendicular to me. I tried the accelerator again. Still nothing, and all the while the snow fell, unfalteringly, mocking me in my man-made machine that could not stand up to its natural wrath.

"Van . . ." Hitomi's voice rang out piercingly, obviously not knowing what to say. In the rear view mirror I could see her poking around the half-barrier to gaze at me uncertainly. Her face, even in sickness, was reassuring.

"Just a little stuck," I grumbled, switching the gear into reverse, noticing the headlights in the distance once again, closer now, coming ever closer at a dangerously fast speed for such a snow storm. Then I noticed that it was a truck, a massive hauling truck, and as if having an epiphany, I suddenly heard the faint blast of its whistle. Hurriedly I looked back in front of me, looked beyond the snow, and noted that I was stuck in the middle of the intersection.

And then panic seized me.

"Shit!" I cried, not thinking, as my heart began to race, foot slamming the accelerator, not caring about where it would take me or how fast it would do so: so long as it wasn't here. And yet still I went nowhere, trapped within a cursed machine, on a cursed street, in a cursed world. My heart raced, raced as it never had before, my foot continuing to press the accelerator, the bus swerving slightly side to side, going nowhere fast.

_"Base to 629. 629, do you read me? Over," _came the scratchy sound of a base operator trying to call me over the radio. But there was no time to respond. The blare of the truck horn became overwhelming.

"Van--!"

_"629--"_

"N--!" I never finished the simple two letter word as the truck came crashing into the side of the bus, into my side, sending both vehicles skidding across the snow slick streets, amongst the horrible sounds of glass shattering, the bus teetering before landing, groaning, on its side. The side and back of my head, already smashed into the window and seat upon recoil, bleed into my hand as I tried to protect my face from flying glass, other debris, and being suffocated by the airbag. My chest and side ached painfully as the seatbelt held me steadfastly in place, even as the bus lay on its side. I fell unconscious for a few moments, dizzy, suffering a concussion, yet, despite all my physical ailments, I will never forget how much my heart hurt, to hear Hitomi's body be flung across the bus.

_"629! 629, where are you?!"_ persisted the frantic cries from the radio.

Vision unfocused, I looked down at the broken door facing the street, snow already pouring in through the smashed windows. "Hitomi . . ." I moaned, suspended in the air only by the will of the painful seatbelt. I spotted her body sprawled about the broken windows, face down to the street. "Hitomi!" I exclaimed, despite the throbbing of my head and the double vision, hastily undoing my seatbelt, only to fall, hard, to the floor, induced into another daze before reaching Hitomi's side.

_"629!! Report your status!! 629!!"_

"Hitomi . . ." I whined, staring at her shattered body, disregarding my own pain, completely horrified at hers. Already snow began to cover her, melting as it touched her warm blood, trickling out from various scratches made by glass on her unprotected face. She appeared to be unconscious. Yet what frightened me the most was the pool of blood that had already formed, as the crimson liquid oozed out of what appeared to be deep wounds to her side and chest.

"Hey!" a new voice broke my thoughts, as I frantically contemplated what to do about Hitomi. "Can anybody hear me?"

"What do you want!" I half screamed, half sobbed at the nameless, faceless voice.

"So you are alive!" the voice said with relief. "I've already called an ambulance!"

I didn't know what to say as I stared at Hitomi's broken body again.

"Is it just you?" the voice, which I had, in my fuzzy mind, concluded was the truck drivers, asked.

"No, there is another," I yelled mournfully. "She's badly hurt," I cried. Then, to myself, as I gently cradled Hitomi's head in my hands, "So badly hurt . . ."

"Open the emergency exit!" called the truck driver.

"_Van! Van, where are you?!" _came the scratchy voice over the radio.

Kissing Hitomi's forehead lightly, I slipped off my jacket, feeling another round of dizziness, and covered her with it, trying to keep her warm for the moment, and intending to try and stop her bleeding after I had hastily opened the emergency exit on the roof of the bus. When I pushed at the exit, initially nothing happened; I was too weak. But I had to get back to Hitomi, and eventually found the strength to open the escape door.

Again I went to Hitomi, scared of moving her, scared of aggravating her wounds, and yet I had to do something besides watch her life seep away onto the cold, snowy ground. Cautiously at first, then with all the force I could muster, I pressed the cloth of my coat into her wounds, feeling the blood stain my hands, sending a chill of fright down my spine. "Hitomi, oh God, Hitomi!" I exclaimed, leaning my face to her pale one, yet receiving no response. "Hitomi!"

The truck driver poked his head through the emergency door, but I ignored him. "Will she be alright?" he asked worriedly, perhaps feeling remorse for the pain that he had caused.

"I . . . I . . . I don't know," I answered truthfully, body shaking, shaking not from the cold, but from the fear that I might lose the one person in my life that I held most dear. But that couldn't happen, could it? No. No, Hitomi couldn't die. Hitomi was just hurt. Just sick. She'd get better. And then we could live our happily ever after, without all the drama. Yes, Hitomi would get better, I halfheartedly reassured myself.

"Is she close to you?" the truck driver asked, and for the first time that night I felt angry, utterly angry, at the dumbass who had smashed into me and asked such a stupid question, at the snow for being such a bitch, at myself for being such a selfish bastard. I hated all these things and many more. And I hated myself some more simply for hating them.

Coldly I turned to the truck driver, although I could not see his face. "She is my fiancée. My fiancée!" I exclaimed, the anger melting as I turned back to Hitomi, her eyes now open, staring blankly, painfully, at me.

"I'm s-sorry . . ." the truck driver began.

"Shut up!" I yelled, leaning down once again to my beloved Hitomi, pressing my jacket harder into her side, still feeling the blood rushing out. "Hitomi . . ." I whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of her response.

"Van . . ." she replied in a choked voice, and to my horror, she coughed up blood.

"Shh, shh," I pleaded, "Don't speak. Just relax. I'm trying to stop the bleeding."

"Do I really look that bad?" she choked, bringing up more blood.

"I told you not to speak!" I said, louder than I'd intended. I was on the verge of tears; but I controlled myself, remembering that I was talking to Hitomi, sweet, lovable, caring Hitomi. "It's going to be okay," I whispered, kissing her lightly on the nose. "Everything is going to be okay. The ambulance is coming, princess, and when it does, they'll clean you right up, and you'll be all better. Then you can sleep all you want, princess, I promise you. Then you can sleep all you want."

I was aware that the truck driver, the total stranger that had temporarily ruined my life, watched me intently, watched me cradle Hitomi and whisper nothingnesses, reassurances, to her as we waited impatiently for the ambulance, for our rescue. Those at the base called my name frenetically over the radio, and yet I didn't care. I refused to leave Hitomi's side, even as her eyes began to wander and fade. I just kept talking to her, as time passed slowly, so slowly, until, in the distance, I heard the sirens of hope.

Even when the medics arrived, it took them what seemed like forever and a day to enter the bus, hampered by the smallness of the emergency door. Upon seeing the state of Hitomi, five people, three adorned in the garb of medics and two firefighters, entered. One of the medics focused their attention on me, while the other four began the careful process of getting Hitomi off the bus and into the ambulance.

"I need you to come off the bus with me," said the medic.

I felt dizzy again, but nevertheless, I replied. "Please, go take care of the girl."

"We will. But we need to look at you, too. Looks to me like you have your own score of wounds," she said, as if joking about the situation that I found devoid of all amusement.

"I'm coming, in a second," I said. "I have to answer the radio call."

"Go," said the medic.

I picked up the mic. "629 to base. Do you copy? Over."

_"Van!" _came the relieved reply. _"Where are you? What happened? Why haven't you been responding?"_

"Accident," was all I murmured, listening to the sounds and voices of turmoil around me, reaching out to Hitomi with my heart.

_"Where? Where are you?"_

"I really messed up this time," I said, beginning to cry.

oOo

They asked me all sorts of questions, about myself and Hitomi, as they examined me in the ambulance, in our mad dash for the hospital. Certain questions I could not answer specifically about Hitomi, like the phone number of a relative; instead, I gave them Yukari's number, for I felt sure that Yukari would know the Kanzaki's number, and would break the news of this tragedy to them. But these questions, they were all trivial, as I sat in a different ambulance than Hitomi, our speed hampered by the blizzard.

They confirmed that I had a concussion, a severe one, and indeed, I could feel the affects more and more as I could do less and less for Hitomi due to our separation. Upon asking me if I had any relation to the girl, they seemed surprised when I said she was my fiancée, but they let it pass without comment. Instead, they diligently cleaned and bandaged whatever cuts I had, examining me, telling me what to do about my concussion.

When we reached the hospital at last, they unloaded Hitomi first, rushing her to the emergency room in a mad scramble; I merely saw her stretcher taken away. Afterwards, they rolled me in at a leisurely pace, taking me to a hospital room, getting me out of my cold, wet clothes, making me lie in a bed, and giving me medicine, even as I pleaded to know Hitomi's condition. I needed to know. I needed to know what was happening to her; but I couldn't make the headache go away.

As I threatened to get up and find Hitomi myself, a nurse finally said, "She is in critical condition. The doctors are doing what they can to save her. There's nothing you can do for her."

_There's nothing you can do._ The nurse's words repeated over and over in my scrambled mind; and, sadly, I knew she was right. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help Hitomi, the one I wanted to help the most, the one I would give my life for, and yet couldn't. There was absolutely nothing I could do. I felt more worthless than I had in all my life.

"Please," I pleaded. "Please update me on her condition. Please tell me if she's okay."

"You need to rest . . ." the nurse began.

"Please!" I cried, tears of remorse and fear welling up in my eyes.

"We will. Just rest," was her terse reply.

But how could I rest? My mind was in chaos. I began to play the 'what if' game with myself. What if, what if, what if . . .

What if Hitomi died? No! I had already established that Hitomi couldn't die. Yes. Yes.

What if, what if, what if . . .

It seemed as though hours passed, but in reality it was only minutes, minutes upon minutes upon minutes, a half hour, forty five minutes, maybe, before someone came into my room again. I asked them about Hitomi, but they knew nothing; they had only come to check on me. More minutes upon minutes upon minutes. An hour. An hour and fifteen. An hour and a half. An hour and forty five.

Until a doctor finally came with the news.

oOo

**AN: Don't kill me. I'd prefer not to die for my evil cliffhanger! I know it's evil, see? That's part of good story telling, right? I'm not gonna lie, my heart is racing right now. I get so caught up in this story, in being . . . well, in being Van. (now that I've begun to read these notes, I'm kinda distancing myself from his character, though . . .) Yes, my heart aches for Van, as I hope yours does. And Hitomi. **

**So, I'm sorry this update was so late, but . . . I dunno . . . I began working on it awhile ago, and I was just like "I'm not feeling it." And I tried again, and again, and again; I just never felt it. The beginning of the chapter took me most of the months; which is the exact opposite of what I expected. I expected the crash to be the hard scene to write; and yet, like I said, I got caught up in being Van, got so caught up in his turmoil, that the words just flew onto the computer screen before I could even think it all the way through (of course, I went back and edited so his jumbled thoughts actually make semi-sense :D). I finally felt it, felt my inspiration flow back into me, this past week or so. I've been pretty dead lately. Everything just seems so . . . boring. But I guess I'm all better now; except I know that, as soon as I post this, I'll have to get back into serious school mode, and I'll have to practice my violin so much, and I have hockey tournaments and playoffs, and I have to take the SAT on March 10th and probably get like a 540 on the math section (because that's what I ALWAYS get on the PSAT for the math section . . .). Hey wow, I can get feel my life crashing down around me.**

**But anyway, before I get back to all that, the question now lingers: will Hitomi live or will Hitomi die? Only I, and a select few, know the answer:D All will be revealed in the last chapter of LS!**

**Whenever the hell I write that o.O**

**-Spirit0**


	11. Ever After

Last Stop

**AN: . . . So here we are, huh? The last chapter, the end of the road, the true last stop of this story. It's only eleven chapters, and yet it's taken me forever and a day to write it, and to be honest, I loved that forever and a day. But all good things must come to an end, you know? I mean, I don't want to be like **_**Naruto**_** and drag on for a million and one episodes! Sorry, bad joke. Seriously, though, I love this story, even though three years have passed since it fermented in my mind; but more of a reflection at the end, so I can say stuff freely :D.**

**As always, thanks to my readers/reviewers! You've made this story an overwhelming success, and I love you dearly! Hopefully you won't leave me after this story ends, haha.**

Chapter Eleven: Ever After

_I saw myself. Well, not myself, exactly. I saw what I used to be. Or perhaps what I still was, deep inside, somewhere. I saw a little boy with raven black hair and merciless maroon eyes, so cold, so sad as they bore into me. I couldn't make out where we were; a gray mist hung all around. I simply felt stifled, not simply because of the aura of the place, but because I couldn't get over how unhappy and hurt I looked. _

_"So you remember me," came my small child voice, so full of hate and loneliness at such a young age. My younger self stood mere feet away from me, and yet the voice sounded distant, faint, as though there were a chasm between us._

_"What do you mean? I never forgot about you," I cried, or felt like I did, for my voice came out in a mere whisper._

_"And yet you never learn anything!" my younger self snapped, anger burning in his eyes; or perhaps they burned with tears. His fists curled at his side, trembling, while his chin quivered, and even in this disparity, he looked ready to strike me._

_"What do you mean?" I asked, frightened, frightened of myself, frightened of the darkness surrounding me._

_"And you've forgotten them, too," the little boy cried, pointing to the right, at a place where I hadn't seen anything a moment before. But there was definitely something there as the mist parted, and it startled me, to see three grave stones, the headstones of my mother, father, and brother, in a row. The headstones looked weathered, cracked, utterly forsaken, left in the unkind hands of mother nature and no one else. No mortal soul took care of them after they had passed, just as no mortal soul had helped them when they walked the earth. _

_I stared at the encapsulation of my young self as I took a step backwards, took a step away from my dark past. "No, I haven't forgotten them. I would never forget them! Where are we? Where have you taken me?"_

_"I suppose you just want to go back to her," my younger self said scornfully, scuffing the ground with his foot as he pointed in the opposite direction. Hesitantly, I looked over, gasping, for there stood Hitomi, surrounded by the mist, a frown on her face and a faraway look in her eyes. She didn't appear to notice me while I watched her, noted how her skin simply blended in with the bleak background, how she wore nothing but a hospital gown._

_"Hitomi!" I cried out; she didn't respond. "Hitomi!" I called again, running to her, reaching her side, reaching out to her, only to have her disappear as soon as my fingers brushed the apparition._

_In her wake stood a headstone. Her headstone._

_"I told you you never learn," my younger self hissed. "You can't go back to her now."_

_"What did you do to Hitomi!?" I asked furiously._

_"She's dead. Just like everyone else. She's dead. You let her die!" my childish self screamed._

_"You lie!" I screamed back. "You lie! You lie! You . . ."_

_"Calm down!" came a new voice. "Just calm down . . ."_

I opened my eyes with a start, suddenly feeling the cold sweat that had swept over me. Confused, I glanced around the white room, full of machines and medical instruments, looking at the nurse who dabbed the sweat from my forehead and the doctor who stood in the corner solemnly scribbling on a medical chart. "Where am I?" I asked, unsure, my mind drawing a blank at first. Then the accident came flooding back to me, and the dream. "Hitomi . . . Where's Hitomi?! Is she okay?" I struggled to get out of the hospital bed, but was pushed back by the nurse; I was too weak to fight.

"You need to calm down," said the nurse. "I know this is hard for you."

"What are you talking about? Where's Hitomi!" I persisted.

"Shh," said the nurse, face downcast. "You fell unconscious after we told you . . ."

"You told me?" I asked, trying to remember. "How is she? She's okay, right?" The nurse looked at the doctor, who had stopped examining the medical chart. "Right?" I asked him.

"Mr. Fanel . . ." he began slowly, and I felt my heart stop beating. It wasn't possible. "I know that this is hard, and I know you have no reason to be calm, but in your condition, try not to be so frantic . . . I'm sure . . ." he paused, obviously at least slightly pained by the outcome of all of this. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fanel, but Ms. Kanzaki is dead. Her injuries were too extensive. She lost too much blood. But I'm sure . . . I'm sure she wouldn't want you to be frantic."

I wasn't really listening to him, and even though I was looking in his direction, I didn't see him, either. In my mind, I saw some sort of hazy replica of the place in my unconscious dream, where Hitomi stood, just as before, only more mournful. Subconscious tears began to slide down my cheeks, and the nurse and doctor said something, but I didn't care, simply watching Hitomi's spirit slowly, steadily, walk towards me, as I mouthed _Why did you leave me?_ She continued to draw closer, but I knew she wasn't real; I could see right through her. She looked almost like she had on the bus, before the crash-- pale, oh so pale, and as she stood right in front of me, I wanted to hug and kiss her. But I knew she wasn't real.

_Why did you leave me?_

The slightest smile crossed her face as she placed her hands on my cheeks; there was no substance, only a chill. She began to disappear.

_Why did you leave me?_

Ghostly lips hovering over mine, she mouthed _It's not your fault._

She was gone.

"Mr. Fanel? Mr. Fanel?" the nurse repeated, wiping tears from my cheeks. "You ought to go to sleep, Mr. Fanel. I know it's hard, but you ought to go to sleep."

I wanted to scream at her, scream _how would you know it's hard? How would you know?_, but I couldn't. Emotions in turmoil and body failing, I simply couldn't. I knew I was falling in and out of consciousness.

"Mr. Fanel, is there any one we can call for you? We've managed to alert the Kanzaki's. They're coming."

"No," I croaked, crying steadily. "I don't have anybody anymore."

oOo

My dreams were torturous dreams, dreams full of tears, of blood, of death, of turmoil, of the crash, replaying over and over and over, only worse, so much worse, Hitomi, covered, drenched in blood, talking with a red stream flowing from her mouth, me desperately trying to halt the blood, tossing and turning, falling, falling in and out of conscious and unconsciousness, of haunted sleep and stifling reality. Between these fits, I was faintly aware that others were present in the room, and yet I couldn't will myself to care. Why should I? None of them were Hitomi. None of them would ever be Hitomi.

_God, why did you take Hitomi away from me? Why did you take Hitomi away? Why didn't you take me instead? I've always wanted to die, don't you know? Why did you take her away? I'd have much rather died instead. Why does everyone around me have to die? Why haven't you killed me yet? What kind of God are you? What the hell, are you even real? No. Of course not. Because if you were, you wouldn't have taken Hitomi away! You would've taken me instead! Because I don't matter! But Hitomi does! And now she's dead. Because I didn't make her get off the bus. Because I didn't make her go to her dorm. Because I couldn't do anything. Because I can never do anything. Goddammit, why did she have to die? Why . . ?_

"Hitomi . . ." I whimpered, opening my eyes slightly, as if hope existed that, when I awoke, she'd magically be beside me, perfectly fine, with a sympathetic smile, chiding me for getting myself foolishly hurt. Instead, I found Mrs. Kanzaki sitting in a chair by the bedside, looking at me with a faraway gaze, eyes red from crying. Mr. Kanzaki stood behind her, looking out the window, tired and bleary eyed. In the corner sat Mamoru, sitting, leaning against the wall, completely lost and shattered, arms resting lifelessly on his lap.

"Mrs. Kanzaki . . ?" I asked quietly, afraid and ashamed. I wanted to hide, beneath the covers of the hospital bed, hide from the gaze of his Hitomi's mother, and if I were lucky, maybe I'd be smothered to death.

"You're awake," was all she said, in a weak voice. We were both on the brink of tears.

"I'm sorry," I said, barely audible, trying, trying to lose myself in the pillow, trying not to cry, trying not to feel ashamed.

But mother simply took my hand and squeezed it lightly, giving me the slightest of smiles even as she began crying again, too. "I know you are, honey," she whispered. "And we're sorry, too. But sorry . . . sorry won't . . . bring her back."

I felt myself losing control as my free hand covered my eyes and my body started to shake. We were talking about Hitomi's death. Other people acknowledged Hitomi's death. It only affirmed my nightmare. "These tears," I said quietly, "these tears . . ." I growled as my anger rose, "these tears . . . won't bring her back either! So why can I only cry?!" I yelled, wiping away the tears and the anger with my arm, jaw shaking. "Why . . ?" I sobbed.

"I don't know why, honey," mother said, moving closer to me, sobbing with me, running a comforting hand through my hair. "I don't know why."

"I told her . . . not to come with me," I rambled. "I told her . . . that I had . . . to go back. But she looked . . . sick. And I . . . I didn't want her to leave. And she didn't want to leave. And . . . I told her . . . not to come with me . . !"

Mother stared at me with red, compassionate eyes. "She wouldn't want you to blame yourself like this. It's not your fault."

"That's what she said," I whispered with a harsh laugh that merely turned into a sob.

Together with mother, I cried myself back to sleep.

oOo

Two days later they released me from the hospital, and the next day was to be Hitomi's funeral. How cruel, I thought, for them to release me, release my soul, while they had stolen Hitomi's, leaving only a shattered, cold body to be buried, just as my emotions were to eventually be buried, muffled by time. If only they had replaced her heart with mine, taken all my blood and put it in her body so she could live. If only. But I hated my heart. Would I want her to have it? Well, who cares about a heart-- a heart doesn't make a person, now does it? It's only the muscle that races, that flutters, upon seeing the one you love. So I guess they _had_ taken my heart, because I couldn't even feel it beating anymore. Nor did I particularly care.

With hollow eyes, I stared at myself in the mirror, and thought I might as well be dead. I certainly looked like living death, if only we could know what living death looks like, except that would be paradoxical. Was this how we're supposed to respect the dead? By looking dead ourselves, dressed in black, with tears in our eyes and a smile waiting to adorn our lips, as relatives and old friends reminisce afterwards, at the reception, with food and drinks and all the merry elements of the living. Hypocrisy. That's what funerals were. Hypocrisy.

But I had to participate in this hypocrisy, didn't I? Because I was Hitomi's best friend, her lover, her fiancé, her _soul_ mate, and it would be more than hypocritical if I didn't attend. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. That's life, eh? Or is it death? Maybe it's both. Maybe they're the same. Maybe it's all an illusion. Maybe we have no soul. Maybe there is no "after life." Maybe there is no heaven. Maybe there is no hell. Maybe there is no God. Maybe there's only fear, betrayal, hate. Maybe . . .

I sat in the church parking lot and stared at the remaining snow on the grass. Silly little snowflakes. Small and white and pretty and so full of deceit. Were you sent from heaven? Did God send you to mock the unruly humans? It's all just one big cruel joke, isn't it? Isn't it? Just one big cruel joke.

The solemn faces changed my bitterness. What did it matter the reasons? The fact was that Hitomi was dead, and the rest of us weren't. This was our time to mourn our loss. This was the time to show respect for the dead, regardless of the unknown. The aura of grief in the room was stifling. It was real. Even if it was hypocritical, the sadness of that moment, at that time, was real. It was all too real.

Hitomi's relatives and friends, they relented to me how sorry they were. The spark of bitter anger rumbled deep within, but I would not allow myself to succumb to it. Not now. No, I tried to remain impassive. I barely talked, and when I did, my voice was low and raspy. I just stared, and thought of how these people didn't know me at all. But it was a phenomenon, wasn't it, that our hearts ached for the same person, that we shared a connection through another? Yes. That was a lesson Hitomi had taught me. Why did she always have to be so right?

"Van . . ." said Yukari, as she placed her hand upon my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I just looked at her.

"There's someone here for you . . ." She nodded to her side and looked down. My eyes followed her gaze.

"Hana!" I exclaimed, and as I dropped to one knee, she hurriedly hugged me tightly.

"Dryden told me to leave her with you," Yukari said, and walked away.

"Van . . . are you okay?" Hana echoed Yukari's question, looking at me with her cloudy gray eyes.

"I don't know."

"You don't look okay."

"Then I guess I'm not okay," I whispered.

"Hitomi died . . . just like mommy and daddy . . . and I couldn't even say goodbye," she sniffled. Her small body trembled against mine.

"This is our goodbye," I said, and nearly choked on the words. "This is our goodbye . . . and it's not your fault."

She didn't say anything.

"Van, it's time for the ceremony to start," came father's voice.

I held Hana's hand as we walked in together.

oOo

I knew I was a basket case. I think I knew it as soon as she died-- but I knew it for sure when I returned to work, or tried to, and couldn't even enter the bus. What exactly kept me from the bus I was unsure; whether it made me think of Hitomi's death or just crashing in general. But it didn't matter. My bus driving days were over. To make up some of the income, I became a full time journalist. I got some crap pay, and I didn't care. What did I have to pay for? Rent and internet and food-- providing I ate anything.

It was hard for me to do anything silly, though, like, commit suicide, for Hitomi's friends and family checked up on me a few times a day. Her friends would just pop up at my apartment and have a little chat about nothing with me, tell me to eat more, and then leave. Mother and father always tried to console me. But the one I liked to talk to the most was Mamoru; I felt our pain was the closest.

I knew the wheel of my life was spinning, but I didn't go anywhere, nor have any desire to. Where _could_ I go? I had no immediate family, and the love of my life was dead; and I hadn't even reached thirty. I didn't have a degree in anything. Nobody really cared about what I wrote. And frankly, neither did I. So what to do? It hurt too much to think about. So I didn't.

Then one day I received a package. A _package_. Who the hell would send me a _package_? A letter or card would be surprise enough, but a _package_? It wasn't big, just an envelope, although it felt a bit weighty in my hands. There was no return address. Maybe it was anthrax. What a way to die-- an anonymous package full of anthrax. Well . . . it had to be better than suicide.

Despite the anthrax risk, I opened the package as I sat down on the couch, and discovered a pile of photographs. Photographs of Hitomi and I. For a long while, all I could do was stare at the very first photo. It was nothing special-- just Hitomi and I sitting on my couch, cuddling, not even paying attention to the camera-- yet I couldn't stop staring. Naturally, my eyes were drawn to Hitomi, the content expression she wore as she leaned against my chest, looking elsewhere, probably at whoever had been talking, a smile lingering on her lips. She looked very much alive. But slowly my eyes wandered to myself. It'd been a long times—years and years-- since I'd seen myself in a picture. Of course, I looked very different from my early teenage years, as far as physical features go. But I didn't care about that. What I noticed the most was my smile. I'd never seen myself smiling before. And, I thought bitterly, I may never again.

I started sifting through the photos slowly, painstakingly slowly. I absorbed this new viewpoint of Hitomi and I, the way the two of us looked to others. Something in me was glad that I now had these physical remnants to remember Hitomi by, because it would have been naïve of me to believe that my memories would remain in tact forever, that the movies in my head would keep going long after the ink of a photograph faded. And yet part of me hated these pictures, for they were yet again a reminder that Hitomi was merely a memory to those who knew her. Still, I went through the pictures as though transfixed, intaking Hitomi's different facial expressions, different postures, different clothes. Eventually the pictures changed to those at Hitomi's house, during Christmas; two hours passed until I finally reached the last one.

Tears pooled at the bottom of my eyes, and I knew I would cherish the picture for as long as I lived.

It was the picture mother had taken after I had danced with Hitomi that Christmas night, the one that mother swore Hitomi would thank her for later. Although the picture had been unexpected, Hitomi and I almost looked as though we were posing, only it was better than that, because our reaction had been authentic. Our lips were curved in smiles, the romance of our dance still lingering in the air like a sweet fragrance. My arms remained around her waist, keeping her close to me, as her arms rested on my shoulders, her fingers playing with my hair. As I stared at the photo, these gestures seemed real to me, so real that I thought I felt my hair move and my body grow warmer. Both our eyes had locked with the camera as mother had called out to Hitomi, although my eyes, I noticed, lingered slightly on Hitomi.

I held the picture to my heart, allowing the tears to flow silently down my cheek. With shaking hands, I picked up the original envelope, to make sure nothing was left inside. I pulled out a note.

_She would want you to be happy. Love, Yukari and Mother_

Getting up from the couch, I picked up the phone and dialed the Kanzaki residence. To my relief, mother picked up on the other line. "Hello?" she asked tentatively.

"Thank you," I whispered into the phone.

oOo

I talked to Hitomi's spirit (aka, myself) everyday, to come to terms with reality, and also full of some ridiculous hope that Hitomi's spirit might help me find direction in my life. Of course, no such vision ever came. It comes with the "maybe we don't have a soul" thing, right? Or maybe she was already in heaven, for surely if heaven exists and we have souls, then Hitomi's soul would be there. I smiled bitterly.

I tried to think _where would I be now, if Hitomi were still here?_ Definitely not sitting on my bed, by myself, talking to the darkness. No, I'd probably be working, but happily, or hanging out with Hitomi, or visiting the orphanage. I hadn't been back to the orphanage since her death. What would I be able to do there besides cry, looking at sad young faces wondering what had happened to Hitomi?

_But what about Hana?_

The question always floated into my thoughts. What _about_ Hana? There was nothing I could do for her. I was a mess. A poor mess, at that. I had no idea how to raise a child. Nor did I have the time and resources to do so. So that was that.

And yet . . .

Hana was the only one left in the world that I loved dearly, and her feelings for me were reciprocal. If Hitomi were alive, we would've adopted her. The way we'd stuck by each other at the funeral was as though we were already father and daughter. But these thoughts, they were selfish. I'd already convinced myself that I didn't possess any parental qualities; I was very young and had no experience with children, had a severely warped pysche, had no money, would probably forever be single, had nobody to rely on . . .

And yet . . .

"It's what you'd want me to do, isn't it?" I whispered into the still air.

There was no reply.

oOo

To complement my journalism salary, I took up waitering. Between the two, I was making out okay. But I needed something more. I needed more money, more stability, more _something_. So I began writing a book. Yeah, like that's more stable, right? But I felt I had to. I had been planning to, anyway, if Hitomi were still here. I had no idea where my words would get me. But I had to try.

Work and sleep, sleep and work-- that was my life. The Kanzaki's and Hitomi's friends (or I suppose I should say my friends) became concerned once again with my condition; they thought I might work myself to death to escape my pain, although they knew my intentions. Maybe I did work excessively to escape my pain, to fill the gigantic black void left in my life. Maybe that's what I wanted to do. It's not like I had anything better to do.

But mother eventually convinced me to just go through with the adoption only four months after I'd begun waitering. In my mind, there was so much more I had to do; yet, if anything, I saw that there were others I could rely on. Which, as I drove to the orphanage, was little comfort. The route to the orphanage haunted me, moreso than I'd thought. Along the way, my hands began to shake as images of Hitomi came flooding back to me. As I approached the intersection where the accident had occurred, my entire body was shaking, and I thought about turning around. Yet, somehow, I ended up in the orphanage parking lot. Just sitting there. Letting my fears drift away.

I walked across the parking lot. The same old cold, cracked parking lot. It's scary, how some things never seem to change, while others may change in an instant. Sort of like a person's mood, for as I reached the door and walked down the hall, the moment I spotted Hana, some of the sadness lifted from my heart, and as we hugged, I knew what I was doing would bring us happiness. And that Hitomi would have wanted it that way.

_Epilogue_

_Fifteen years later, and I still haven't forgotten the details, even though so much has changed. I'd be lying to you if I told you raising Hana-- especially in the beginning-- was easy, but together, we made our way through life-- without Hitomi-- the best we could. As I continued to wait tables, be a journalist, and write a novel, I felt like a horrible guardian, for half the time I had to find someone to watch Hana. But Hana seemed fine with this, for, I think, using that sixth sense children have, she knew I was doing it not only for her, but for me. _

_But even when I was with her, I didn't always pay attention. I was still a bit mentally unstable, and sometimes would just . . . cry, or talk to myself. But Hana was so good about it. Most of the time she would just continue with whatever she was doing, as though ignoring me, but I knew she was consciously aware of every move I made. Other times she would crawl into my lap, and just sit there, waiting for my fit to pass, her presence comforting. She never complained of being hungry if I started cooking dinner late, or of being tired or hurt when I forgot to tuck her in at night. Sometimes I wonder who was taking care of whom. _

_I moved closer to the Kanzaki's, for I relied on them, and thought that Hana should be close to the only other family she had besides me. Of course, I couldn't afford much-- just a two bed room apartment-- but it worked for the first few years. It brought not only Hana closer to the Kanzaki's, but me as well; and Hana especially liked being with Mamoru, whenever he was around. Not only was he the super-cool-idolized uncle, but he introduced her to music, now her passion, as well._

_I think it's . . . weird and amazing how the three of us ended up going where we wanted to go in life. Maybe we aren't the best at what we do-- hell, I know I'm not the best author in the world-- but we all got there. Mamoru's band had a couple of hits. Hana's musical career (as a violinist, of all things) looks rather promising as she is finishing her last year of college. And me . . . well, I've written the significant part of my life story to you, haven't I? So I finally did go somewhere._

_Sometimes I wonder if I should have written this story first; after all, the best stories come from your life. But I don't think I could've written it then. No, I couldn't have written it fifteen years ago. It would have been so . . . so . . . so heart-wrenchingly difficult, so full of bitterness. It wouldn't have been right. So I wrote fictional stories, mostly, where all the main characters had a touch of the past and present me. They were all rather sad, I'll have to admit; but I did have some happy endings. I've come to see that life really isn't all sadness._

_I obviously never married anyone, or even dated anyone, after Hitomi died. How could I? Maybe I'm wrong, but I believe that nobody could make me feel the way Hitomi had. Isn't that the point of true and eternal love? I like to think so (provided we have souls, of course). I remember, the first book I wrote, when I found out it would be published, I printed a copy and left it by Hitomi's grave, as though by doing so she could read it in heaven. I attached part of a poem I'd written, too, that I felt went along with it:_

I'm finding my own words, my own little stage

My own epic drama, my own scripted page

Send you the rough draft, I'll seal it with tears

Maybe you'll read it, and I'll reappear

_To this day, with every story I've ever had published, I've done the same thing, and attached the same bit of poetry. Maybe it's just a waste of paper, maybe I'm just senselessly killing trees and promoting global warming, but it gives me a bit of solace. Because when I stare at the picture from the Christmas of fifteen years passed, the only photo I have framed of the two of us, I believe that somehow, by placing those pieces of paper by her deceased side, she can read what I have to say. And hopefully, she approves._

_I visit my parents and brother often, too. After I'd adopted Hana and we'd moved, I'd felt compelled to find out where they had been buried. But once I had, I couldn't muster up the courage to go for a while. The dream haunted me. When I did go, all I remember doing is staring at the headstones, a bit disturbed that did seem as though they were out of my dream, yet reading the same words over and over and over again, conjuring what little memories I had of those that were of my own flesh and blood. It made me wonder what really made a family; was blood enough? I think it is. Then I simply cried silently for a bit before walking away._

_Today I am forty years old. It may not seem old, but I've been through more in those forty years than most people have been through in a lifetime. But now I have nothing to do and nobody to spend my time with. Sure, I've made friends, but . . . My parents and brother are gone, I have no wife, and Hana is all grown up and fending for herself in the world. I must admit, I feel a bit lonely. When I look in the mirror, I can see the gray beginning to show in my hair, and how my eyes seem more tired than usual. Maybe that's why I'm writing all this now. In my heart I always knew I'd write it, someday._

_How can I end this with some semblance of happiness except to say that I'm actually happy with my life? I'd love it if Hitomi were with me now, if we'd always been together, of course; but the time I spent with Hitomi, and the lessons I learned, and the people I met are what allow me to be happy now. And thus I will print this out, along with my poem, and set it upon Hitomi's grave, and with all my heart wish that, somehow, from heaven, she can read the tiny, insignificant words I have written._

_And remember that I will always love her._

oOo

**AN: First, a disclaimer: Van's little poem thing is part of Yellowcard's **_**Rough Draft.**_

**It's 12:48 AM on Wednesday, August 1****st****, 2007, just 12 days shy of being three full years since I first posted this. I'm sure I won't post this until later in the day (you know . . . after I sleep on it), but I feel like I should do my reflection now.**

**I wrote most of this story knowing Hitomi was going to die; the only chapter in which I was ignorant of this fact was chapter one. I'd always intended to have the accident, but my original intentions were for Hitomi to live. Then I thought, "well, what's the point in that? Van won't learn anything from that." And thus the story progressed. It's obvious that some things along the way were unplanned (Hitomi's rape, for instance), but I always thought that was part of the charm of fanfiction: crazy stuff just happens as you go along.**

**Looking back, I don't like passages of the story, or the way things unfolded, but I suppose that's only natural. I wasn't even in high school when I posted the first chapter of this story. Seriously, what the hell did I know (hm . . . what the hell do I know now)? And my first year was a joke. And I guess this fanfic rolled with that joke. Not until sophomore year-- when I was finally in a class level that I belonged in, taking courses that I wanted, and had teachers who could actually teach-- did I learn anything. And then my writing style started to change. But it never really affected this story. I think I was in too deep by then.**

**If I were to rewrite this story-- as a fanfiction or in some form of an original story-- I would do it a lot differently. I don't think that much would stay the same. But I'm being rather negative, aren't I? That's not fair. There are a lot of great points to this story (otherwise, I don't think so many people would have read it). I think one of the things I definitely would NOT change would be the tone, the way I chose to portray Van's character. Maybe he was really emo or whatever at times, and maybe he was a bit overly fluffy, but I always loved how I managed to make him angry or sad or happy, but with a hint of amused sarcasm, with a perspective that was as though he were currently living the story, yet he was somewhat extracted, writing from his older, more mature, perspective. You know what I mean? I just made it sound really confusing x.X (or maybe that's just because it's really late . . . or early . . . whatever!)**

**Although I have other fanfics to work on, I must honestly say that I don't get around to them as much anymore. I'm more into writing my own thing these days, stuff that portrays a message I want to convey. I no longer have trouble creating characters, or coming up with names, or creating my own fictional worlds. Of course, this is a great thing for me, but it also makes me sad. I always loved the interactivity of this fanfiction community. I've made a few friends here over the years, and met a handful of great authors that I hope someday can put their talent to good use (or are already doing so). But now I feel I'm overly-critical of most people's works. Like nobody can write anymore. (I'm overly-critical of everything . . . especially movies.)**

**Hm . . . this is starting to sound like a farewell, which it's not. It's more of a . . . catch you later. I still intend to work on my other fics (especially **_**Something I Missed**_**; it will now assume LS' spot). And I honestly must say, this fic holds a place dear to my heart, as do all of you readers/reviewers. You gave me confidence (and criticisms) these past three years that I've tried to put to good use. Writing is something I definitely want to do when I'm older-- whether I'm some big success or not. So, I just want to thank all of those who've been there along the way, whether you've been there from the beginning, or hopped on along the way (or even dropped off along the way).**

**And I hope you all don't hate me too much for the ending and will read my other fanfics when I update them. Until then . . .**

**-Spirit0**


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